


If You're Mine

by Montley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suspense, Tom in Hermione's Era, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7052626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Montley/pseuds/Montley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone out there was meant to be hers and she was meant to be theirs in a unity that would last forever. Hermione seldom imagined at night of conquering and venturing the world with her soulmate, living a story that would make everyone remember their names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1-1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been wanting to write a soulmate AU forever now after reading tons in the Marvel Fandom, and this is a Soulmate AU story where Tom Riddle was born the same date but in 1977 (so in this universe James and Lily did not die). The story will have three different parts, the later two coming out soon! I hope you all enjoy!

I. The Beginning

Wizards grew up knowing the first words of their fated, the other person that they were meant to spend the rest of their lives with. Hermione’s words were fairly innocuous and written upon her forearm in a thin, delicate, and imperfect script. _What are you doing up so late?_

At her birth, all were utterly perplexed by the strange birthmark that no muggle bore as though it had been written on her in the womb. It terrified the doctor and nurses who delivered her, writing it off as the strangest birthmark that they had ever seen. Her parents did not know what to make of it, and nothing that they tried to do in order to remove it ever worked. They merely stuck to covering it up, not wishing any other parent to believe that they would allow their child a tattoo. With every adults’ dismissal of her mark, Hermione learned that when people, even the ones who acted wise and superior, had no answers they would merely ignore and conceal anything foreign, unknown and unfamiliar. Thus, hiding herself became a part of Hermione’s daily routine.

Then, her true self arrived along with Hogwarts, where the secrets of her mark were revealed. The words in fact were the words that her soulmate would first speak directly to her, claiming her as their own with their eyes supposedly locked upon one another's. The concept of soulmate was strange to her eager, knowledge-yearning self, yet the words reassured her parents for the first time, and they no longer forced her to cover them, for now they solidified themselves in their idea that she would be loved without them around until the day of her death. On the other hand, at the news of her future soulmate, a concept Hermione had only heard of before in muggle expressions, she now felt the warmth of the words and their utter potential. Someone out there was meant to be hers and she was meant to be theirs in a unity that would last forever. Hermione seldom imagined at night of conquering and venturing the world with her soulmate, living a story that would make everyone remember their names.

  Filled with hope of her future, like all wizards whose marks were deep, black, rich and unknown, she prospered at Hogwarts with her two best friends, Harry and Ron. Harry had met his soulmate before he had even stepped upon the Hogwarts Express within Ron’s little sister, Ginny when they met each other’s families on the platform. The two were tentative and nervous around the other until earlier that year when Ginny brashly asked Harry out, not caring for their future to be dismissed anymore, for Harry had not wanted to rush her into committing herself to him. He still did not, he had learned from his mother not to hurry Ginny into any sort of a commitment, for the both of them were still so young and fairly immature. Ron, like Hermione, still yearned for his soulmate, but the two of them held onto the mystery and placed their respective soulmates upon a pedestal that neither would ever fulfill. 

Such a pedestal was claimed that one night early during their fourth year, when Hermione had been out late with Harry and Ron. The school was in the throes and tangles of the Triwizard Tournament, and Hagrid had urged them to come out the night before the first round to see the dragons in the Forbidden Forest that had arrived for the Champions.

On their way back to Gryffindor Tower after seeing the dragons, the three of them huddled under Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, for they had lingered with Hagrid too late, and it was past curfew, which was nothing new for the three of them, especially Harry and Ron. Their brisque walk sped up as they reached their common room, and suddenly, Harry accidentally smacked against the corridor wall as they were turning a corner, precipitating the three of them to fall and Ron’s foot to poke from under the cloak as they hurried to stand once more.

“Who’s there?” a deep voice echoed from the other end of the corridor they just passed. 

Ron creeped his head along the edge of the wall to peer down the corridor, and quietly griped back, “Oh, Merlin, it’s Riddle, he won’t give up.”

“Riddle?” Hermione whispered.

“Shit, he’s a rotten Slytherin prefect, caught us last year,” Harry answered.

Hermione sighed and considered her desperate friends, too nervous to move. The both of them had been in trouble too many times to count, and another letter home for either of them, though it would please Harry’s father immensely, would triple their detentions and punishments. 

“Just go you two, I’ll handle this,” Hermione hissed.

“Hermione?” Ron said as slipped out from under the Cloak before they could keep her from darting away with their outreached hands. 

With a deep breath she turned the corner, uncaring towards any punishment that she may receive. Any distraction that she could possibly cast at the flick of her wand had less of a chance of protecting them, for they could easily trip again as the cloak could barely cover all of them, leading to the confiscation of the cloak, especially if the prefect summoned others. So, she faced the tall, Slytherin prefect who was rushing down the corridor. Seeing her, his steps slowed until they were face to face.

“What are you doing up so late?” Riddle asked with a quirk of his thin lips and she froze, her eyes darting towards her imprinted arm. Anyone could ask such a question, but she had never spoken to this handsome prefect, so, she came up with something relatively unique. 

“Night terrors,” she chirped, unable to conceal her smile and blissful hope.

An eyebrow rose, and he was silent as his dark eyes slowly roved over her. His silence confirmed their fated truth. This boy, this Riddle, who lived under the same roof as her for four, bloody years was meant to be hers, and she was destined to belong to him, yet he made no move to recognize it.

“Name?” he finally asked of her after the dreadful silence. 

“Hermione Granger.”

“Tom Riddle,” he stated plainly, allowing her the slightest notion as to who he was. “Come with me, Hermione Granger.”  

He spoke her name as plainly as his own, and yet, it incited a fervor in her, a type of need she had never felt before and could hardly begin to recognize. He began to walk away a few paces in front of her in a confident stride. Why wizards were assigned to one another at birth remained a mystery to the whole of the Wizarding World. Everyone had their theories; some believed soulmates were meant for breeding purposes, and such a theory ignored those who were infertile, others thought that it had nothing to do with the soul, rather the brain connecting equally like-minded individuals. Hermione liked to align her beliefs in the final theory, that soulmates were merely those who were bound to experience the depths of a great love. 

Without speaking to her, they arrived on the seventh floor where her dormitory awaited her. Unsure whether she should say anything more to him, her soulmate, Hermione began to walk towards the entrance of her common room when he tightly griped her hand. She reveled and shuddered in the feeling of him bruising her skin, marking her consciously at his own choice, submitting himself into their fates. 

Tom appeared shocked that he held her small hand in his and quickly dropped it, concealing the insecurity that Hermione saw for the briefest of moments, but he finally asked, “Can I see your mark?”

Hermione nodded, her eyebrows creased at his behavior and rolled up the sleeve of her uniform to reveal the scrawl. His lips formed the faintest of smiles as he recognized his writing and the first words he spoke directly to her.

“Might I see yours?” Hermione asked, and Tom did the same and rolled up the sleeve of his own uniform under which her neat script twisted upon his pale skin over blue veins. Cautiously she reached her hand out as Tom watched her appreciatively and one finger traced over her words upon him. _Night Terrors._ With such words, Hermione suddenly was filled with regret. Of all excuses or “unique” words that she could concoct for his simple question it was _Night Terrors._ As a child, he must have been plagued by the meaning of those words since it may have been apparent to him that his soulmate, his supposed beloved, only thought of him as a monster from the visions of her depraved mind. Yet, that was only if he even knew about soulmates as a child, and if he did not, just like she knew nothing, he may have associated himself with the monsters of the night, as would others who would jeer the doors of the words at him, for children could be the cruelest of beings, inflicting tumults of pain upon their peers. 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, drawing her hand away from him, and he rolled his sleeve back down to cover the mark.

“You’re sorry?” Tom repeated back to her, slightly amused at her sudden apology. 

“For the words, I could have said anything, and I chose-” Hermione began to ramble.

Tom interjected, “So you lied to me about what you were doing up so late?”

“Sorry,” Hermione said, unsure of how she should behave or speak around him, they had just met each other and yet they knew that their lives would be spent entwined, “I didn’t know you were my, I mean, perhaps if we get to know each other well, or, if this is what we believe, I won’t, erm, lie.”

After such a statement Hermione wished to slam her head against the cold, stone wall. This was her first meeting with her soulmate and he scarcely received a semblance of who she was, the girl he believed he was meant to spend his life with. Already she created a lie and a horror forever imprinted upon his body. 

He licked his lip, began backing away and smirked. “I’ll be informing your Head of House, Professor McGonagall about your late night activities, and you can let her know at any of the detentions that she sets up for you why you felt you needed to lie about your wanderings.”

“But I-,” Hermione began to say, but resigned in her attempt, comforted by the notion that she would have also given herself detention and would most definitely see him and his dark eyes again. 

“Goodnight, Hermione, I’ll see you another time,” Tom said and whisked away before she could return the same sentiment. Desperately, Hermione wanted to reach towards and chase after the person she had spent her life until now waiting for, to talk to him and have all of this make perfect sense like all those before her who came across their soulmates for the first time. Even Harry and Ginny, meeting each other at eleven and ten years old respectively, felt a semblance of a spark and a pull towards one another. Yet with Tom, Hermione only wanted to chase after him for her future to make sense and for him to touch her again. His behavior towards her had been cold, and his calculated self lost its front only when he tightly griped her arm. That was the singular moment that she craved to dart back to so that she could grip his hand in return, to feel his touch and understand why the two of them were fated to be. 

When Hermione finally crawled into bed, without seeing Harry or Ron, she was restless. She only thought of Tom and his dark eyes, a boy she barely knew, but who she belonged to and who she desired to own. 

She traced his mark upon her skin, and _What are you doing up so late?_ repeated in her mind again and again like it did when she was little and unknowing to the meaning of the words and why it lived upon her skin. Slowly, she replaced it in her mind with the words she claimed him with, knowing within her body and soul he was doing the same with the remembrance of her finger brushing against his skin. _Night Terrors._


	2. Part 1-2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am terribly sorry for how long it has taken me to post this. I am awful at updating. I had plans to have this story be three parts, but since writing this part, I have realized that my plan is much to long and crazy for that. So I am splitting the second part into four pieces.
> 
> This part takes during the period after they met, and rather abruptly ends due to how I've split it up.
> 
> Nonetheless, I hope you all enjoy!

xXx

II. Not Long After

Hermione did not encounter her soulmate for days. With every passing day that she did not see him she slowly submitted herself to the belief that he merely had been a dream, a joke, or a figment of her imagination, yet every time she glanced at her soul mark she knew that he must have been real. Tom Riddle. She loved to repeat his name, for it sounded natural upon her tongue. It was like some dirty little secret etched with mystery, a dark secret of mankind that she had the pleasure to know, a name she should only dare whisper at night under covers. Their one interaction revealed to her his intelligence, his poise and even anger laced within his dark eyes, especially when he held back his fury due to her lies. Perhaps the second theory of soulmates was the correct one. Perhaps they were equally like-minded individuals.

When she informed Harry and Ron about meeting her soulmate, Harry was happy for her, yet she could see a twinge of jealously in Ron's eyes as he warned Hermione that he believed Riddle was a racist prat. Hermione was not inclined to believe that, assuming Ron concluded that due to Riddle's house loyalties. Frankly, nothing about their interaction led her to that conclusion. Her Gryffindor affiliation did not appear to mean anything to him. Yet, her mind drew her to wondrous fascinations, marking him not only bonded to her soul, but the man she was created to mold to. Hermione chose to believe in the deeper machinations of the soul mark, of its power in selection and effortless seduction.

Yet, as the days roved on, Hermione assumed that her soulmate did not feel the same. He did not appear to seek her out, while her heart danced at the thought of seeing him. The only times she spotted him were during mealtimes in the Great Hall. Naturally, he sat with the other Slytherins of his year and quietly ate his meals. These were the few times she could prove to herself that he was real and during her detention with Professor McGonagall. She loved studying each arch and angle of his face as she tried to memorize each and every detail. Tom's jawline was sharp, and he always held himself in a stern expression as he ate, his mouth never grinning, causing him to appear almost regal. His dark eyes haunted her dreams, and yet, his eyes would never stare at her from across the Great Hall, and it drove her insane.

The end of November commenced the first round of the Triwizard Tournament. She sat in the makeshift arena with Harry and Ron, yet her eyes sought out her soulmate. He sat in the opposite side of the arena with fellow Slytherins. As the champions fought to reach the egg, Hermione often glanced at Tom, watching how his dark eyes would alight with excitement when the champions drew close to danger and the fiery breath of the dragon. When Viktor Krum cast the Conjunctivitus Curse, Tom's eyes met hers. He was so far away, and yet, his stare pierced her. He smirked, and she shivered. And then Viktor Krum won.

After the first round, December soon rounded, and not long later Hermione noticed him sitting alone in the library from between the shelves. His dark eyes roved over the tomb he was reading. She could not glimpse the title, and her heart raced as she chose whether or not to sit with him. The corner he sat in was secluded, away from the prying eyes of Madam Pince and the cattle of the lower year students. Then she snatched the book she had been searching for and, with a deep breath, approached him, placed the book on the table, took off her bag and sat in the seat across from him. At first, he made no notice of her. His finger flicked to the next page of his book. Under the table her foot quietly tapped. She took out her quill. His teeth bit down on his bottom lip when he finally looked up at her, a glimmer of intrigue in his dark eyes. As soon as he looked at her he was back to reading his book. No words.

Hermione hid away her disappointment and began studying as intently as he was. She had two papers due at the end of the week and figured, as her soulmate was ignoring her, she may as well finish them. The time passed in a blissful silence and she reveled in the fact that he  _finally,_ after too many days yearning after him, was in her presence. Eventually, it all ended too soon as she heard him pack his belongings away. She glanced up, hoping that he would say at least one word to her, to, at the very least, acknowledge their precarious situation.

As he stood, Hermione dared to speak, "Pleasure, Tom."

His dark eyes bore into hers as he returned her sentiment with a small nod and strode away, his cloak trailing after him. Once he was far gone, Hermione sighed and plopped her head on top of her book.

She craved to understand him. Why he did not seek her out, why he would leave his bloody soulmate without a single word. She never imagined the difficulties of having a soulmate. She never imagined that he would never want her as much as she wanted him. It burned her spirit. But she had to conceal her disappointment when Viktor Krum sat where Tom had and she smiled at him.

And time trickled on just the same.

Ron called Tom a  _right, foul git_ that night for ignoring her. Harry on the other hand was speechless, not knowing how to comfort her or assuage her fears of her soulmate never fully recognizing her existence. Yet, Hermione began visiting the library at the same time each day, and on the few occasions that he was there, she joined him, and they studied in the peaceful silence. She began to not mind him not speaking with her, believing him to be uncomfortable with the situation and slowly adjusting to it. Sometimes she would find him studying her from across the their table, waiting to see what made her flinch. Eventually, she would find him already situated in the library and nodding his head at her to join him in their peaceful silence. Equally like-minded individuals indeed.

His silence, though admittedly comforting when around him, drove her mad when she was away. She  _needed_ to know more about him, and thus, spoke with a couple of his contemporaries in utter desperation for knowledge.

" _Riddle_  is your soulmate?" Fred Weasley confirmed unbelievingly when Hermione asked him George and Angelina what he was like in their classes.

"Someone somewhere must hate you, Granger," George added.

"So I take it you all dislike him?" Hermione questioned impatiently, her foot tapping on the ground.

Fred was about to speak when Angelina interrupted him, "More like they hate him because they're jealous of him."

"Jealous?!" Fred gasped.

"Us?!" George finished, with his hand pressed against his chest.

"Oh, please do go on, Angelina," Hermione urged with a smile.

"Can't believe my soulmate is turning against me," George commented, wiping a fake tear away from his eye. Angelina laughed and punched his arm softly causing George to collapse into his twin's arm in fake agony.

"They're jealous simply because Riddle is the top of our class, shoe in for Head Boy, utterly gorgeous, and can get away with murder, all of which these boys aren't," Angelina told her.

"She forgot one thing. He's an arrogant, Slytherin sod," George said.

"But just like you, Granger, a complete know-it-all," Fred added.

"But unlike you, he's the only one who's made Snape actually _smile_  while teaching," George said.

Hermione frowned. "But Snape called me an  _insufferable, know-it-all_ last year _."_

Angelina shrugged. "Just boils down to the fact that Riddle's in Slytherin."

Fred laughed. "You two know-it-alls will conquer the world with your insufferable brains."

At that, Hermione could not resist smiling. Indeed, they were equally like-minded individuals. She bid the twins and Angelina goodbye as they rushed off to Quidditch practice, leaving her to her thoughts.

Mid-December had Hermione once again in the library. Tom had not appeared, but, nonetheless, she had to work. Time slipped by too fast, as it always did these late nights, and Madam Pince was soon rushing her out a few minutes before curfew. On her way back to her dorm, she passed by the first floor bathroom and decided that she may as well use it, away from Lavender and Parvati for one night. Her hand grazed the door knob when she heard the sound of furniture running across the floor and the dripping of a faucet followed by heavy footsteps. Unsure why, but her heart raced as the door suddenly opened.

"Are you always up so late?" the deep voice greeted as she looked into the dark eyes of her soulmate.  
"Perhaps you'll find out one day," Hermione remarked jokingly. Tom smirked in reply, but her curiosity got the better of her. "What were you doing in the girls'?"

"I'm a prefect, Hermione," Tom drawled instantly, rolling her name upon his tongue, testing the sound of it and perfecting it.

Hermione sighed in relief. "Right, rounds, of course, I should have realized."

"What  _are_ you doing up so late?" Tom went on, and her soul mark tingled.

"Library," Hermione stated without pause.

"Are you sure? Or are you lying again?" Tom teased as he took a step closer to her. "Night terrors, perhaps?"

"Just the library this time, awfully boring, I know," she answered.

"Always in the library, aren't you?" Tom questioned further. "Or are you merely looking for me each time?"

"Arrogant much?" Hermione retorted. "If you haven't deduced already I'm highly involved in my studies and often visited the library before we even met."

"Defensive?"

"Merely stating the facts."

"The facts as you see them," Tom remarked with a smirk and placed his hand against the wall above Hermione's head, and she felt even smaller under his tall stature.

"Perhaps I just wish to know who my soulmate is," Hermione admitted, and her hands placed themselves on her hips.

Tom blanched into an empty expression. "I'm Tom Riddle."

Hermione sighed and bit her lip. "More than your name, I want to know who you are and why I'm connected to you."

Tom raked his dark eyes over her as his hand started slowly sliding down the wall next to her until it returned to his side before confessing, "I wish to know the same. The idea of soulmates always…perplexed me."

Hermione smiled. "It perplexed me as well, especially because for the first eleven years of my life I had simply no idea what in the world my soul mark was."

Tom frowned. "You mean you're a-?"

"Muggle-born, yes, and my parents were quite relieved when we all found out what it was. Scared them awful when I was born," Hermione prattled on nervously.

"Mudblood," Tom stated coldly, finishing his thought, and Hermione's heart shattered. Of course, her soulmate of all people had to be racist against her kind. She knew that Slytherins typically were Purebloods who viewed themselves as superior to all others. Some were kind, and as the years passed, those tensions diminished slightly. Hermione assumed that Tom, with a last name like Riddle, unconnected to any Pureblood family and her soulmate, that he would not react to the news with such a cold dismissal.

It struck a nerve within her, and she took a deep breath, hiding her pain and with false confidence snapped, "So what if I am? I am your soulmate, and I expect to be treated with respect."

Tom was silent and he took a step away from her, confounded by the girl that fate declared his. The silence between them, deafened them, until another voice joined them.

"Soulmates?" the soft voice questioned, and at the same time, Tom and Hermione turned and saw Professor Dumbledore.

"Y-yes, professor," Hermione answered immediately as Tom glared sullenly at the old man.

"Newly met?" Professor Dumbledore asked curiously.

"Yes," Tom said, lacking any identifiable emotion.

"I see," Professor Dumbledore said, and he gave the two a small smile. "The two of you better be off to your dorms at this late hour."

Hermione nodded and began to walk away when Tom spoke while looking at her retreating figure, "I have rounds, Professor."

"Ah yes, well, goodnight, Mr Riddle, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said, and Hermione reciprocated the niceties before sulking away, the tears threatening to drip, but she refused to let them. Fate could not force amicability between her and her soulmate. If he despised her kind, she could despise him in return.

Thus, the following weeks before the Winter holidays, she avoided him and his secluded table and spent her time in the library with Viktor Krum. He could not pronounce her name in the slightest, but he was kind, shy and awfully sweet, so she felt silly for judging him initially as a simple-minded jock. Even though Viktor was famous, she could tell that he genuinely liked her. But, when she informed Harry and Ron about her soulmate's racist ideals, even Ron kept himself from rubbing in the fact that he had been right.

Instead Ron, pitying her, shrugged, and said, "You don't have to be with him if you don't want. Tons of soulmates end up being platonic or otherwise."

Yet, Hermione had no hope for even a platonic relationship with him. Frankly, she did not care for him and did not wish to throw everything away on a boy who despised her for something uncontrollable and ridiculous. The first time she was called a Mudblood, it tore her into two. This world was supposed to be accepting and magical, where dreams could become realities, and yet, she could never escape harassment for who she was. Even her soulmate turned to such cruelties, and she hardly knew him.

But then Viktor asked her to the Yule Ball, and she said yes. Half because she genuinely liked him and knew having him on her arm would ensure a wonderful evening, and half because she craved a glimmer of glass shattering jealously to appear in her soulmate's dark eyes.

Winter break arrived, and on Christmas was the Yule Ball. Dressed in her periwinkle robes and her hair styled with handfuls of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, she felt glamorous and beautiful. Words which no one had ever thought to describe her as before. Viktor smiled at her as she traipsed down the Grand Staircase and took her hand in his large one. She caught the eyes of Harry and Ron as she swept in, hardly able to hold back her excitement. Harry held Ginny's hand and Ron stood with Padma Patil, whose eyes kept darting elsewhere.

"You look beautiful, Hermy-own-ninny," Viktor said to her as he brought her onto the dance floor. She blushed, and just that once, she did not care to fix the pronunciation of her name. The night roved on, and when she began to eat dinner, she spotted her soulmate. Tom sat a few tables down and he was glaring at Viktor, who was silent next to her as they ate. Feeling her eyes on him, his gaze shifted towards her, and immediately Hermione turned away. When she dared glance up again, he had left his table, and her heart raced. And then, one lone finger tapped her shoulder. She looked up into his dark eyes and noted his passive expression.

He outstretched his hand towards her and asked, "Would you care to dance, Hermione?"

Viktor, perturbed, interrupted, "You 'ave not finished dinner yet."

"It's all right, Viktor, he's my sou-, er, Tom," Hermione said, and then took her soulmate's hand. "Yes, Tom, I'll dance with you."

Instantly, Tom guided her up and swept her off to the dance floor, his hand found her waist and wrapped her against him. Few couples danced around them while the others ate. One of them had Padma Patil with a Beauxbatons boy, whom she gazed adoringly at.

Tom bent down towards her ear and muttered, "Viktor Krum. I thought better of you."

Hermione pulled her face away from him, pressed her foot on top of his, and snapped, "Unlike you, he's kind and likes me as I am."

"I would have taken you," Tom stated, ignoring her anger and grimacing at the small pain.

Hermione scoffed. "Really? A person of my blood on your arm?"

Tom's brow creased, and he indicated, "I have taken the time to think about that, for initially, your blood status shocked me. But I cannot merely erase you. Fate says that you're mine, whether we like it or not. Now kindly get your foot off of mine."

She flushed and carefully slipped her foot away, ashamed at her impulsiveness. Then, his words resonated.  _Mine. Mine Mine._ Such a word brought to her the thought of belonging to him like a piece of property, a puppet at his disposal. It unsettled her, and when he said she was his it was accompanied with something more than just possessiveness. His words were a solemn vow to own her. It drew something akin to horror within her heart for the briefest moment. Hermione never cared to be submissive.

Thus, Hermione began to explain, "After our last interaction, I discussed with my friend that possibly we were only meant to be platonic, it is more common than you'd think, and-."

But Tom interrupted and sneered, "I would despise that."

For a moment, anger rampaged on his handsome features, turning them cruel. But as quickly as it came, the anger dissipated, and he clutched her closer to him. Strangely, she found herself melting into those words, melting into the thought of him hating a life without a soulmate's love. As he twirled her around, her heart pulsed, and her rational, horrified mind told her to get out of his grasp, yet strangely, she couldn't let go. She despised it.

Then the song ended, and he released her, her skin cold where his hands once touched her. Quickly, that coldness was concealed by a new heat. Viktor's hand gripped hers, and his furrowed dark brow revealed his anger.

Tom nodded his head and his black cloak whisked away.

"May we dance, Hermy-own-ninny?" Viktor asked bashfully. Not caring to cause her date to be further upset, Hermione agreed, but her eyes constantly looked for Tom's as Viktor tried to treat her to supposedly the most magical night of the year.

When she found Tom's eyes once more, his lips held the Devil's smirk and she wanted to drown in it, for her mark cried out to his.

xXx 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Tom is my favorite creep ever. Until next update my lovelies! 
> 
> Love,
> 
> Montley


	3. Part 1-3

xXx

III.

Winter break continued for Hermione with a gnawing emptiness. The weeks dragged on. When she told her parents about her newly found soulmate, they could hardly hold in their excitement. Underneath that excitement though, was a suspicion when her eyes did not light up like theirs, for all three of them believed that it would be easy.

Instead, her voice would fall to a whisper whenever she would think about him, her soulmate with the Devil’s eyes. No matter the difficulties and the dread, she remembered how they danced, how _easy_ that had been, unlike any other facet of the Tom she had begun to discover. She craved to know him, craved to know every feel of his body against hers, craved to know the inner workings of his mind, craved to feel his breath tickle her skin, and craved for his teeth to bite into her flesh. And yet, she could not find the words to tell her parents that she had finally found him, a boy who despises her heritage but wishes to know the curves of her body.

She knew that he could be calm, collected and respectable, but it seemed that with her he had no care to hide who he felt he should be, someone mechanical, cold, constantly processing and constantly suspicious of the footsteps around the corner.

Back at Hogwarts, after the usual goodbye kisses from her parents, she felt relief knowing that at the very least he was wandering the building, that she could spare a glance at him during dinner again, that she could be the footsteps around the corner, and that their silence in the library could be renewed.

But just as quickly as the relief came, a new fear took its place and gripped the school by it skinny, unprepared throat. A hiss had placed itself into the hallways of the school. A girl was petrified, frozen with a face marked by terror. A second-year Hufflepuff. A Muggle-Born. It happened just a short time before the Triwizard Tournament’s second task would commence. And thus, it took all that Barty Crouch and Professor Dumbledore had to get Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to remain at Hogwarts as they swept the incident behind their backs. A week before the second task another was petrified, but Professor Dumbledore reassured each school community that a cure was on its way, being devised through Professor Pomfrey and her mandrakes.

The administration somehow allowed this strange attack to fold into the whispers of rumors, but not reach to extents of worry within the student body. Instead, people remained focused upon the tournament, and Hermione was pulled into it before she could attempt to protest.

Hermione had brought up the courage to once more approach Tom at his usual table in the library. Viktor had been nowhere to be seen after all and would take no offense. As usual, he paid her the littlest bit of attention as she sat with him while scrawling out another Potions essay. As she delved into the depths of the paper, Professor McGonagall approached her, startling Hermione away from her academically-driven stupor. Before she knew it, her Head of House was dragging her away into the Black Lake.

That was the last thing she remembered before coughing up lake water while being held by Viktor, who’s face had melted away from a shark’s. He wrapped her in a towel, and the water in her ears blocked out the sound of the bustle of the tournament. But, in the distance she saw the Hogwarts’ Champion Cedric Diggory, with an arm wrapped around Cho Chang, and Beauxbatons’ Champion Fleur Delacour sobbing. In an instance, Professor Dumbledore himself submerged into the murky water and rised almost immediately with Fleur’s smaller doppelgänger, who almost immediately Fleur wrapped in her arms and kissed on the cheeks.

“Are you fine? Hermy-own-ninny?” Viktor asked as she shook the water out of her ears, announcements and the bustle surrounding the two of them.

“Yes, erm, fine,” she muttered while bringing the towel to her face and wiping it dry. “How did you fare?”

“Second place! Not terrible,” he exclaimed, and his wet lips kissed her on the side of her mouth. Immediately she flushed and stood up, leaving his grip, the cheering of the other students warping in and out of her ears.

“Congratulations,” she replied earnestly as she panted slightly, her heart beginning to pound furiously. “I should really go find my wand, dry off.”

“Your professor should have them,” Viktor informed after he stood.

“Yes, McGonagall,” Hermione muttered, her stare falling to her bare feet. Then, Viktor’s thick arms drew her in and held her close, unwillingly to let her go. His sweat and the excess lake water on his skin permeated her, and his heavy breath tickled her neck. She knew that he wanted her, but nothing within her wanted him. She felt terribly in that regard, for if Tom or soulmates did not exist, Viktor would have been ideal. He was proper, polite, strong and smelled like a forest engulfing her in its branches.

He drew away slightly, and with his thumb, titled her chin up and pressed his unusually dry lips against hers. She froze against his touch, surprised and uncomfortable. Slowly, as to not hurt him, she stepped away from his kiss and her arms folded across her chest.

“What was that?” she found herself asking, noting them being surrounded by hundreds of roving, curious eyes, believing everyone witnessed her first kiss that was unlike what she had hoped, unlike what she had meticulously planned to the last detail, unlike her belief that she would only ever kiss her soulmate. This kiss lacked anything she had ever dreamed. It was plain and boring, nothing like the spark and intensity that people wrote epics upon.

“I just could not help it, I’m sorry,” Viktor drifted, his words attempting their own seduction as Hermione cringed, and he still leaned in to press his lips against hers again.

“Look, I’ve got to,” Hermione tried to say, but his hand gripped hers and pulled her back. His kiss landed on her cheek as she turned her head.

“Hermy-own-ninny?” Viktor said, determined to draw her back into him.

“I’ve really got to run, Viktor, I’m sorry,” Hermione finished, and saw how his brown eyes warped towards anger and hurt before she darted away, afraid suddenly of his touch, of anyone’s touch and witness. On her way out of the makeshift arena, she ran into Professor McGonagall, who, without question, immediately returned her wand to her. A warmth instantly radiated across her body and she quickly cast a drying spell and tucked the towel into a corner before rushing out of the arena, passing by Rita Skeeter who smirked at her and whose pen was jotting down notes faster than Hermione could run. On her way out, she passed by hoards of students departing the task as they stared after her, and a warm voice called her name. Relieved, she turned at the group she just passed stupidly in her panic.

“Hermione? Are you all right?” Harry asked as he, Ron and Ginny caught up to her.

“Sorry,” she instinctually responded, a smile finding its way on her lips. “Just in a bit of a shock.”

“Merlin, what’d those merfolk do to you?” Ron asked as he comfortingly placed his hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t know what occurred underwater, they charmed me into an enchanted sleep that wore off once I emerged from the water,” Hermione informed them, speaking rapidly afraid that the information on her encounter with Viktor would slip out, that her friends would call judgement, that they would call attention to it every now and then and make fun of her for it. The information was not necessary for their wellbeing, and thus, Hermione vowed to herself not to say a word about it to them.

“What happened, Hermione?” Ginny asked, her hand on her hip, practically a double of Molly Weasley.

Hermione flushed. “Nothing at all. Truly.”

Warily her friends exchanged a look, but they knew that, if something actually bothered her, she would admit it eventually. The four of them continued up the path towards the castle, eager to bring the topic back up later nonetheless, if Hermione was willing or not.

Harry sighed. “Well, either way, we’re getting dinner now, if you want to join us. We left before getting to you because we thought that you would go off with Viktor or something.”

“Oh, no, no thank you. I think I’d rather take a shower, sneak to the kitchens later,” Hermione answered, truly desperate for a shower to wash away the Black Lake and the feeling of Viktor’s lips that made her feel unclean. She could not rationalize why the encounter made her feel slightly nauseated and sullied. Viktor was perfectly cordial and he liked her. But the idea of Tom trumped the idea of Viktor. Viktor was an open book, read and experienced by everyone, required reading, while Tom was a puzzle, a part of the restricted section, ventured by the few who dared, and she dared to trace her fingers on that book’s spine.

Once the four of them entered the castle, her friends went off in the other direction and she slowly stalked up a rather desolate Grand Staircase towards Gryffindor Tower. As she walked towards the Fat Lady’s portrait, she rubbed a hand over her eye, overwhelmed and confounded by the day. She still felt the hum of Viktor’s lips upon hers, it was unnatural and tingling, a song she never wanted to hear.

But a pull on her arm distracted her and tore her from the thrum of thoughts that encircled her mind as she was brought towards the nearest wall, her back pressed against its cold touch, and those dark, dangerous eyes bearing into her, trapping her in their confines, embracing her in their story. 

“It was good to see the Hogwarts Champion win today,” Tom remarked casually, as though he had pressed her against the wall unwittingly. Though, his grip tightened with each word and his thumb traced against her mark. 

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but found that she could not even devise the simplest of remarks. He caught her off guard. But his glare, his tone, his grip all told her that he witnessed Viktor’s lips against hers, that he felt the same discomfort, the same displeasure. But there was a spirit of jealously in his comment, a sense of superiority that any retort of hers would be unable to match. She craved to defend herself, to tell her soulmate that she did not want Viktor the way that she wanted him, and yet she knew that there should not be a need.

Hermione straightened her posture and hiding any trace of emotion, replied, “Cedric did well.”

It seemed to irritate him slightly, for she did not lean into his bait. She knew that he was the type who liked to illicit response or an admission before lecture and punishment. He liked to see the throes of submission in the features of another.

“Did you volunteer to be a part of the task?” Tom questioned calmly, his other hand finding its way to her collarbone and mindlessly tracing the pale, sharp, bone.

“I was asked,” Hermione informed him.

“I see,” he noted, and she reached her hand to push his off her collarbone.

“If you’d kindly let me go, I was off to shower,” Hermione snapped.

“If I let you leave, that would ruin my fun, wouldn’t it?” he jested, his lip gleaming a salacious smirk, his grip ever present.

“You followed me here, trailed after me. Jealous, are you?” she marveled, her own smirk adjusting itself to her normally warm disposition.

A twitch interrupted his normally perfect disposition, like a fracture appearing on a carefully made statue, and he sneered, “I don’t believe anyone else was made to kiss you.”

“And I don’t believe that there is any sort of guideline to our relationship that states that you are the only one who can kiss me. We are all imbued with free will, Riddle,” Hermione objected, unwilling to fall underneath Tom’s distasteful sentiment.

“Did you like it?” Tom questioned angrily.

“E-excuse me?”

“Did you like the feel of his lips? Their possession of yours?” Tom hastened his inquiry, his breath heavy.

After a pause, a toss between honesty and pride, Hermione fell towards truth and its earnestness, “No.”

And Tom smiled. “Good.”

“Good?” she breathed, entirely muddled by his swings.

Tom drew in nearer, and his lips ghosted her ear and her small, golden studs, before he whispered, “You’re my soulmate, not his, not anyone else’s. Mine. And don’t forget it again.”

Her heart pounded into an unfamiliar disarray, aroused and confused, his lips kissed her blushed, forlorn cheek, his teeth then biting into the supple skin that he felt was his for the taking. Something inside her craved to meld with him further, to feel more than what Viktor gave her, to experience a real first kiss. Something profound, something that begged her to keep on. Every logical fiber within her identified the threat within Tom, but her soul only wanted to warp around him and learn and study each of his fibers. But he stepped away before she could, before her own possession of him could take hold. His possession of her was at an imbalance.

She despised him as he walked away, she despised him that he did not allow her to get her final word, and she despised that he brought her to confounding swirls of fear and lust.

“Tom!” Hermione called out as he reached the landing, her arm raw from his grip, but she waved it above her head now that it was freed.

Curious, he turned back towards her, pausing in the middle of the otherwise empty corridor.

“You do not get to do that,” Hermione admonished. “You cannot simply press me against a wall and drive me into submission. You are my soulmate not my ruler. You are mistaken on what a soulmate is, you do not actually own my soul, nor I yours. Frankly, I can kiss whoever I’d like. But at the moment I’d like to kiss no one and shower away this averagely dreadful day.”

His face melded away from the smirk she began to relate to her visual of him in her mind to a true smile and as though she were new, commented, “Library, tomorrow, at five. I’ll read over your paper, _if_ you’d like, of course.”

She found herself unconsciously nodding her head before he stalked away. Still, with the last word. Merlin, she wanted to fucking grip his painfully pallid neck and _fucking_ strangle him so that he could feel how infuriating and bloody confusing he was. Of all the people she could be bound to in the world, oh, the fates must have laughed when they sealed a Slytherin to a Muggle-Born Gryffindor, Salazar’s and Godric's ash-ridden bones both turning in their long-buried graves.

Her long-awaited shower, on the other hand, relieved the tension that strained each muscle that wanted to strangle her soulmate, break him into submission instead of her. She could no longer allow him to catch her off guard. With him, she had to seize an upper-hand, sneak up on him in return and review his assignments in return. She wanted their relationship to sing harmony instead of dissonance.

But their shared school and corridors cackled a different tune. In the morning, they were adorned with the streaking of fresh blood, surrounded by the eyes of curious students, mesmerized by the danger that Hogwarts actively condemned.

Tracing the cold, stone wall, the blood congealed on its edges and molding was a phrase unlike any the average mind could predict for the establishment that had long drifted away from tolerance of racism after the defeat of the notorious wizard, Grindelwald, but his sentiment so easily returned with the haunting and threatening blood-etched lines.

_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._

And next to the words were the frightened eyes of a fourth year boy. Another Muggle-Born. Another victim whose pallid skin sunk into its crevices and screamed for want of help and freedom from the grip and laughter of paralysis.

And she knew that she needed to find out more, the eyes of that innocent, Muggle-Born born commanded her to. And so she did, as the predator slithered through the pipes, sniffing the blood of its next prey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this (sadly shorter) part! Just wanted to thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows! Also, I no longer know exactly how many parts this story will be, probably around ten. It's just funny how in my head this was originally three parts but now I'm stretching and complicating everything too much, and to me it was better the individual parts and now I have a much different (and in my opinion) better ending planned! Can't wait to share it with you all!
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Montley


	4. Part 1-4

xXx

IV.

The attacks only continued and all of the victims continued to be Muggle-Born students. With the Triwizard Tournament soon coming to a close, the faculty covered up quickly each and every attack, just until the tournament would be over and it very soon would be. Curfews were implemented and there were escorts back to the dorms after dinner. But even curiouser things like dead roosters were being discovered, and the Headmasters of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were leaning towards going back home and reporting Hogwarts as dangerous and irresponsible. At least, that was what Viktor told Hermione when he cornered her one afternoon in the library after he apologized for his behavior after the second task. He went on to reassure her that they would stay to complete the tournament after much convincing from Barty Crouch, and that the task would still occur at the time planned, near the end of the school year. But, she ignored the yearning in Viktor’s eyes and concentrated on what truly mattered. Hermione only knew that for she began to spend a majority of her free time researching what could be attacking those like her, borrowing tome of tome from the library and checking on the victims who lay frozen in the Hospital Wing as the weeks trickled by.

So, Tom and Viktor fell to the back of her mind. Viktor, even though he apologized, made her slightly uncomfortable and Tom was cold, not at all relevant to the pressing situation and appearing in the library less and less after looking over a paper of hers. Only Ron and Harry displayed a fear for her life and would try not to let her walk around the castle by herself.But their constant presence and “protection” suffocated her so much she even began to avoid going to meals. The other Muggle-Borns’s safety meant more to her than her own. If she fell victim to the attacker in the process, but her progress helped others, it would have been worth it. Her own skin did not matter as much to her as justice did. She also ignored the headlines published by Rita Skeeter after the second round of the tournament: _Viktor Krum’s Girlfriend, Hermione Granger, The One Thing He Would Miss the Most, Runs Into the Arms Of Another Right After He Saves Her._ She also tried to ignore the onslaught of hate mail from Rita Skeeter’s fans that burned her fingertips.

The legend of the Chamber of Secrets was the only pressing matter. In the few passages in the books that she could find, it was declared a myth, a fable concerning Salazar Slytherin before he left the school. The best information that she could find was from Professor Binns in class who informed her and the rest of the class when she asked that Slytherin had hidden a chamber which contained a horrible monster, for he was angry about the fact that Muggle-Borns would be allowed to attend Hogwarts. After being outnumbered in such a position, Slytherin fled the school, but rumors spread of a hidden chamber spread, but none of any sort had been found. Yet, the attacks on the Muggle-Borns could be no coincidence. At the very least, some Slytherin was perpetuating the myth, using it as a sort of excuse. Although, Hermione was more inclined to believe that the Heir of Slytherin did exist and wandered amongst Hogwarts’ corridors. The natural hatred towards Draco Malfoy caused Ron and Harry to accuse him of the attacks, but Hermione doubted that Malfoy’s deviousness would extend that far.

One night she snuck Harry’s Invisibility Cloak away from him and skulked off to the Hospital Wing, as she had began the habit of doing every once in a while, and counted the petrified, enclosed victims. Four poor souls lay there, frozen and unknowing. Hermione could not imagine anything worse aside from a Dementor’s Kiss. She had no idea if the victims were conscious at all times or were lulled into a sleep. She believed Dumbledore would do his best to keep the students comfortable in their cursed state, but there was no guarantee.

“Hurry,” a voice snapped from outside the Hospital Wing and Hermione darted to one of the corners in the room. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall rushed inside the Hospital Wing, levitating a body above them before lowering the body on the closest empty bed. Covering the newest victim’s face was a camera, and Hermione pressed her hand over her gaped mouth in recognition. Colin Creevey, an earnest young, Gryffindor, Muggle-Born boy with a fascination for photography and charms.

“Poppy!” Professor McGonagall called out in a loud whisper. The matron poked her head out of her office and upon seeing the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress she immediately came out of her office.

“Oh dear,” Madam Pomfrey murmured when she reached Colin’s petrified body.

“I’m afraid another has been petrified, Poppy,” McGonagall said. “This is getting far worse, Albus.”

Dumbledore reached for the camera Colin gripped. “Perhaps the boy captured his attacker.”

He was able to pry the camera out of Colin’s hands and opened the back of the camera before it sparked in his face and began to smoke.

Dumbledore coughed, and McGonagall spoke up again, “Albus, I do not know what more we can do to prevent these attacks except closing the school.”

“Sadly, Mr. Crouch is preventing me from closing the school until the tournament has completed,” Dumbledore informed her. “Likewise, I view it as a last resort.”

“Can this Chamber of Secrets be real, Headmaster?” Madam Pomfrey chirped.

Dumbledore placed the burnt camera on the bedside table and, with a forlorn look in his bright, blue eyes, he answered, “I am afraid it might be so. A monster may be lurking in our very halls.”

With that, Hermione cautiously snuck out of the Hospital Wing as the Madam Pomfrey began to take care of Colin more carefully. She made her way back to the Gryffindor Common Room and before addressing the Fat Lady, she removed the Invisibility Cloak after making sure no one else was around. Few students were still awake and working on their assignments in the common room when she saw Harry and Ron sat next to the fireplace talking with one another, and she assumed that they had been waiting for her.

“Merlin, Hermione,” Ron said. “You shouldn’t go out alone, where were you?”

“There’s been another attack,” she told them instead of answering him. “Colin Creevey.”

“Shit,” Harry cursed and ran his hand through his hair.

Colin had a peculiar fondness for Harry since Harry’s second year, and the thought of his constant dismissal of Colin’s attentions began to haunt him.

“How do you know?” Harry asked.

Hermione bit her lip and sat on the plush couch next to Harry. “I-um, borrowed your cloak, which I’ve um, admittedly been doing, and went to see those petrified in the Hospital Wing. Then Dumbledore and McGonagall rushed in with Colin’s body.”

She handed Harry’s cloak back to him, and Harry rolled his eyes, “You know, it’s polite to ask for the cloak rather than always stealing it.”

“Your fault, you shouldn’t have told me where you keep it,” Hermione retorted, and Harry chuckled as he shoved the cloak into his bag.

Ron ignored the exchange and asked, “What’d Dumbledore say?”

“It seems he believes that the Chamber of Secrets might be real, that Slytherin’s monster may very well exist,” she told him.

“Like I said before, Hermione, it’s got to be fucking Malfoy, the slimy prick strikes again,” Ron attested.

“I wouldn’t put it past him to do something so bloody awful,” Harry agreed.

“Yet, it has to be some sort of monster that can only be controlled by Slytherin’s heir, as the legend says, something terrible traveling about the castle. You really think _Malfoy_ can be the Heir of Slytherin?” Hermione said, trying to steer Harry and Ron away from Malfoy.

“Yeah, and Malfoy’s filthy rich, racist father helped him bring in something and get into the chamber,” Ron offered.

“Malfoy’s father is a high position Ministry employee and would try to avoid such scandal, especially after all he’s been accused of doing in the past,” Hermione countered. “If Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin, his father would not allow him to attack the student body. It would interfere with his future political career if he was caught. His father knows that Professor Dumbledore is no fool. Perhaps under any other Headmaster I’d think that theory plausible.”

“Yet, look at what Malfoy Senior has done, all the while claiming Imperius. He’s tortured Muggle-Borns in the middle of the streets, marched with others in masks shouting Grindelwald’s name, cheered on Grindelwald’s conquest for the ‘greater good,’ though Grindelwald’s been long imprisoned. Malfoy Senior was also a right old snobbish prat to my parents back during their school days, so I think that he could go either way since the old arse was still able to secure a nice, cozy Ministry position,” Harry listed snidely.

“But- why now? Why during the _Ministry_ sponsored tournament? What would he or Draco get out of it? People act on that sort of extremist racism when there’s a benefit to them,” Hermione demurred. “It’s darker. Not that it’s just an intense form of dark magic that I don’t believe Malfoy capable of, there’s a maliciousness behind this that hasn’t been seen before. It’s an _Heir_ of Slytherin, not just any racist Slytherin.”

“Could even be a first year, I suppose,” Harry suggested. “They don’t know what they’re doing. They might not even know how to control the monster’s dark magic.”

“Right, but, we can’t just start tracking down spooked first years, that’s the lot of them,” Ron joked.

“So we find the monster,” Hermione declared.

“How do you think we can do that, Hermione? We don’t know a bloody thing,” Ron asked.

“Well, we have to figure out what the monster is, and I have been doing some research in the library,” Hermione started.

“Yeah, and?” Harry probed.

“You have to think about what creature Salazar Slytherin, known Parseltongue and dark wizard would choose,” Hermione informed, biting her lip. “I think it could be a basilisk. It also explains the dead roosters. It’s said that the rooster’s crow is fatal to it.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron moaned.

“How the hell do you think a fucking basilisk can fit into the school?” Harry asked, slightly annoyed.

“Easy, the pipes,” Hermione clarified. “And most of the victims have been found near water sources or mirrors. Colin was holding his camera when they brought him in. The lens prevented direct eye contact. The victims get petrified by the reflection of the basilisk’s eyes otherwise they’d be dead. Given that, the basilisk must be near water sources most of the time, which made me think the pipes. Granted, Colin’s camera is an exception to that, but I think that this still is the most likely theory.”

“It’s a huge stretch, Hermione,” Harry muttered, shaking his head.

“A huge fucking stretch,” Ron muttered.

“But it’s our only guess, I don’t see you two coming up with anything,” Hermione snapped.

“I mean we should bring this to someone else, my dad could really help. He has good influence with the Aurors who could investigate, or even just to Dumbledore himself,” Harry recommended.

“I don’t know if it’s that simple,” Hermione indicated. “As you two said it’s a huge stretch, we should have some evidence to bring the Aurors in or something as simple as our memories to make the theory plausible to Professor Dumbledore. We should discover the actual so-called Heir of Slytherin.”

Harry sighed. “What should we do?”

“Follow the pipes closest to the sites where the victims were found, then we might find our Heir of Slytherin,” Hermione said. “Are you two in?”

Harry shrugged and offered, “Tomorrow night after curfew? I can bring my dad’s cloak if any professor comes by.”

Hermione nodded, and then Ron said, “Yeah, fine. It’s been boring around here since the troll Quirrell released during our first year.”

“Excellent.” Hermione smiled. “I really think that we can make a difference. Together.”

“Together,” Harry echoed and clutched Hermione’s hand in his.

“Together, but later,” Ron said as he stood up from his armchair. “Right now, I’m going to sleep.”

Harry and Hermione chuckled, and Harry gave her hand one last squeeze before he stood to follow Ron towards their dormitory while Hermione took the books she had borrowed from the library out of her bag. She spent the majority of the night working on her assignments and reading the small blurbs on the Chamber of Secrets in the books she had found. The more she read of the little that was available to her, the more she was confident in her theory that the monster must be a basilisk. It made perfect, logical sense. No other creature could be so fittingly Slytherin’s monster of choice, and its yellow eyes were the cause of the petrifications. The dead roosters only confirmed the theory. The logic suited her, and eventually she curled up on the couch and dozed off, still in her robes.

She woke up to Ginny Weasley looming over her, one hand on her hip. “Merlin’s beard, Hermione! Have you been here all night?”

Hermione stirred, rubbed her eyes and mumbled, “Erm, I guess.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, “Honestly, get up, get clean and get dressed. You have no idea what else has happened on this couch. Just last week I saw Cormac McLaggen-”

“Thank you, Ginny,” Hermione interrupted. “You’re mothering me. Merlin, I swear that you and Harry act like my parents sometimes and you’re both younger than I am.”

“You’re a mess, someone has to,” Ginny indicated. “Hurry up, you’ll miss breakfast.”

Hermione groaned and rubbed her face before rolling of the couch that had become her bed for the night. She watched as Ginny left the common room, her braid swinging behind her. She began to pack away the books strewn on the table in front of her, the quill that her hand still gripped and the book that had somehow become her pillow. After she gathered her belongings, she headed up towards her dormitory to do as Ginny said and passed by Cormac McLaggen on the stairwell who smirked at her, reminding her of what Ginny had just said, and made a mental note to ask Ginny later on exactly what she saw Cormac doing. With it being Cormac, it could be anything.

She took a quick shower and managed to find a pair of clean robes before she walked to the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry and Ron asked why she was so late to breakfast as Ginny just snickered next to Harry. There were only a few minutes left until class began so Hermione quickly drank a cup of tea and ate a small pastry, and soon she was off to class with Harry and Ron. They walked through the hallways together until they ran into a crowd gathered on the first floor.

“Who did this?” the croaked voice of Argus Filch the caretaker shrieked.

Hermione, Ron and Harry joined the back of the crowd, all of whom were staring at the petrified figure of Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris, suspended from the ceiling outside of the girl’s bathroom. 

“Who did this to my cat?” Filch demanded, his pointed eyes glaring at the students around him as he yelled in their faces.

“Enough, Argus,” a calm voice called from the other end of the hallway. Dumbledore approached the grieving caretaker and placed reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The time for questioning the students is not now, but Mrs. Norris will be placed into Madam Pomfrey’s capable hands.”

Filch sneered. “One of these rotten children did this to my poor Mrs. Norris, I know it.”

“As I said, we will discover the perpetrator in due time,” Dumbledore assured. “Off to class, everyone. No students walk alone in these halls.”

The crowd of students quickly dispersed. Hermione, Ron and Harry passed by Filch and Dumbledore on the way to their class as Filch began to sob, their feet stepping into a nearby puddle.

“Malfoy is seriously targeting Filch’s cat now?” Ron commented.

“You have to drop Malfoy,” Hermione said. “We have no evidence that can point to anyone.”

“You’re right, could even be Riddle,” Ron joked, nudging Hermione’s arm, who froze in her steps.

“Erm, I hadn’t considered that,” Hermione stammered.

“Ron’s, uh, kidding,” Harry interjected. Ron shrugged and frowned and Harry shoved him to the side.

“Well, he does seem rather dark,” Hermione admitted. “Intelligent and polite, but dark.”

“You’re shitting us, right?” Ron exclaimed.

“It’s not like I’ve seen him perform any magic to prove that, but he’s awful studious and Fred, George and Angelina mentioned that he’s highly adept. And I told you two that he was displeased to say the least that I was Muggle-Born, but any Slytherin would feel the same. He’s like any normal Slytherin I’d say,” Hermione rationalized quickly, questioning her own opinions on her soulmate.

“Right then, so it could be any Slytherin is what you’re saying, great,” Harry huffed.

“No evidence otherwise,” Hermione concurred.

“We try to find the monster tonight, yeah?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Should I tell Ginny that we’re doing this?”

“No fucking way,” Ron blurted. “Not having you endanger my sister.”

Harry laughed, “But I can endanger you?”

“She’s too young,” Ron clarified with a frown.

“Yeah and I’m fourteen, and you and Hermione are fifteen, not much of a difference,” Harry countered.

“She’s thirteen! Huge difference!” Ron exclaimed. “Anyway, we barely fit under your dad’s cloak, she’ll make it impossible.”

“Then it’s your arse on the line when she finds out that we did this without her,” Harry warned right as they arrived at their classroom. He swung open the classroom door and waved Hermione and Ron inside.

The proceeding class and the rest throughout the day kept Hermione on edge for that night’s events. She ran through every possibility in her mind. What if they ran into a professor past curfew? What if they would continue this procession for weeks as more students became petrified? What if they failed?

But the one question she avoided was what if the monster that she believed to be a basilisk looked into her eyes with its piercing yellow ones?

Yet, the one thought that kept her on edge the most was the unbridled excitement she had for the night’s adventure, for it _was_ an adventure. She, Ron and Harry could be the school’s heroes, honored on a plaque for their achievements, unlike anyone before them. Hermione craved such recognition and respect for she knew that she and her friends were meant for so much more than what they had been exposed to already. They were meant to seize victory rather than wait for it. Success in this venture was no option but a necessity. In a sense, all of the people within the school were at risk, especially Hermione herself. She knew that would leave her dorm every night, with or without Harry and Ron, to search for the monster and its controller. Without stopping the ‘Heir of Slytherin,’ Hogwarts could very well become lost to her or she could become petrified like the other victims.

The small taste of potential victory on her tongue drove her to her meeting with Harry and Ron that night. Harry arrived equipped with the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map that Harry’s father and his friends bequeathed him in hope that Harry would continue their “noble” work. Ron on the other hand arrived with borrowed Extendable Earlobes that Hermione had asked him to get from Fred and George, that Ron was gifted with a promised “I owe you,” one of the more dangerous agreements one could make with a Weasley twin.

“What do you want the earlobes for again?” Ron asked. “Fred and George couldn’t stop asking if I wanted to use them to spy on some girls, as if I’d actually do that shit.”

“It may not work, it’s a long-shot,” Hermione admitted. “But I was hoping that maybe they’ll help us hear into the pipes in the walls better.”

Ron assented, and the three of them left the common room underneath the Invisibility Cloak. They meandered across the seventh floor on the way to the Grand Staircase, their eyes out for any sign of a possible attack. They passed by Argus Filch as they turned the corner to get to the staircase. Filch had been hobbling through the halls and grumbling to himself.

“Where should we go?” Harry whispered once they reached the top of the staircase.

“I was thinking we could start in the dungeons, near the Slytherin Common Room,” Hermione suggested, and Harry and Ron agreed. They walked down the stairs without managing to trip over the Invisibility Cloak. Harry kept a close eye on the Marauder’s Map.

“Snape’s patrolling the dungeons,” he told them.

They arrived soon at the dungeons and went to a corridor where Snape was not around. Hermione pulled them towards the wall and pressed one of the Extendable Earlobes against it, hearing nothing. Disgruntled, she pulled Harry and Ron along the corridor as she focused her attention on the wall, still hearing nothing. When they saw that Snape had cleared the area around the Slytherin Common Room, the three of them checked the area, again the walls were barren of sound. Seeing that Snape had left the dungeons altogether, they ripped off the Invisibility Cloak.

“Now what?” Ron demanded.

“I-um,” Hermione stammered.

“This was stupid,” Ron griped, throwing his hands in the air. “We couldn’t have expected to do anything. We should have just written Harry’s dad, an actual Auror.”

“Don’t just give up, Ron,” Hermione snapped. “Look, we can, um-“

“What?” Ron interjected and realization dawned on Hermione.

“Think about where some victims were found,” Hermione said. “Most were on the first floor, maybe an attack will happen there again.”

Harry nodded. “Worth a shot. Let’s go, and then if we find nothing maybe we can check Creevey and the lot in the Hospital Wing and go back to the common room, try again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s the final task of the tournament, mate,” Ron reminded. “Not even the Heir of Slytherin would want to miss that.”

Harry scoffed. “Fine, day after.”

With that, the three of them went back under the cloak as they headed up towards the first floor. Harry checked the map and noted that no professor or faculty member was currently in the corridor. Hermione once again pressed her earlobe against the closest wall, and the sound of a single water drop caught her attention. She followed the trickling noise and tore the Invisibility Cloak off as Harry and Ron trailed behind her. Then, the slightest slither heightened her awareness, and her eyes grew wide with excitement and she could not contain a devilish smile. She snatched the map away from Harry, and noted that she could not see any label for a basilisk, so she knew that this may be her only chance to chase after it.

Hurriedly, without concern and without returning the map to Harry, she ran down the corridor after the slither, turning the corner as her friends tried to follow her.

“Hermione!” Ron called after her, but she ignored him, her friends’ footsteps after her growing dimmer with each passing moment as she turned along the corridor again, next to another staircase. She realized that they must have made a wrong turn or gone down that very staircase.

She stopped in her tracks as she paused in front of a water puddle on the ground and noted it as the corridor where Mrs. Norris had been found that morning. Ahead of her was a prone figure on the ground of the corridor, a stripe of yellow running along his robes. She folded the Marauder’s Map into her robe pocket and darted towards the figure. She bent down of the ground next to him and turned him on his back, the newest victim, Justin Finch-Fletchley.

She gripped his hand and felt the awful cold that claimed him. Her hand then pressed against his pallid cheek and looked upon the resigned emptiness in his eyes. Then, she finally noticed not far away, Nearly Headless Nick, head askance and expressionless just outside the girl’s bathroom, and she held her breath.

“Harry, Ron?” she choked in a quiet sob as she stood up, remaining next to Justin’s body in the center of the corridor. Her eyes darted around the corners, hoping that her friends would appear, and she knew that she should not have gone off alone and reckless. Next to Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, she finally feared for her life.

“Hermione?” a sibilant, familiar voice asked, and she felt like she had stopped breathing. A cold hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her backwards so that she stumbled into his grasp and her back was against his heaving chest. Her head fell back into the man’s chest whose breaths grew slower with each passing second all the while she panted. She looked up into his dark eyes, stealing the one moment of comfort from her soulmate until he asked, _“What are you doing up so late?”_

She found herself unable to respond, and a tear traced down her cheek. Tom lifted his thumb to wipe the tear away. She closed her eyes at the feel of such a caring touch, and he softly chuckled. He brushed her hair to one side of her head with his long, cold fingers.

Tom bent his head down towards her ear and whispered, “You really should be careful at these hours. Something terrible has been occurring.”

He kissed the top of her ear and traveled down to her thin neck and softly bit the supple flesh as she shivered, welcoming the unfamiliar touch as he pressed her closer to him with the arm already gripping her.

But questions alerted her away from indulgence, reminding her of Justin’s petrified body and a frozen ghost right in front of her. She pried herself from Tom’s grip and turned to face him, suspicion reigning supreme in her mind.

“What are you doing up? I didn’t realize prefects would still be on patrols,” Hermione questioned, toying with the danger of the situation, but she find that she did not care. Harry and Ron would find her. They always did.Tom smirked and his left hand held her hip, pulling her against him.

“This is only another night terror, Hermione, and it will soon be over,” Tom intoned and ran his tongue along the sharp edges of his teeth and his left hand traveled to the back of her neck.

“What are you-,” Hermione began to questioned before he interjected by firmly pushing his lips against hers. He bit down on her bottom lip, and holding her close, did not care for permission as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and grazed the edges of her teeth. Something about the kiss was yearning, desperate and furious. Hermione felt unsure against him, unsure if this was supposed to feel like, yet it brought her a rush that she wanted more of. It was warm feeling against the cold touch of his hands and strands of her hair somehow falling in between his kisses. She never felt more wrong knowing she was kissing this man, not boy, that fate drove her to, next to two frozen souls that deserved recognition not such perverseness. She never could have imagined that Tom would choose now to hold her and claim her. That thought cut short her kisses, and Tom’s jaw clenched at one final bite of her lip.

He pulled away from her, and she looked up unsure and helplessly at him, a feeling unnatural to her, though her hands were pressed against his firm chest. And then she noted his wand pressed against her temple.

“Imperio,” Tom immediately intoned before she was even able to consider the worst or prepare any sort of counter-curse. Instantly, Hermione melded to his will, and he smirked that devilish smirk that she wanted to drown into, even when such a curse rid her of her sense of self. “It’s just a little night terror, Hermione, forget the Muggle-Born on the ground and the ghost, just go to your dormitory, get ready for bed, close your eyes and drift off. No one is going to hurt you. I’ll protect you, dirty blood or not, my words lie upon your skin and you are mine.”

The curse made her unable to respond, and any uneasiness she would have normally felt was swept aside. Hermione suddenly became very tired and backed away from Tom. Her feet carried her across the hall, each step echoing in the corridor as Tom watched her reach the other end of the corridor before departing from the floor himself. She headed back from whence she came by the Grand Staircase landing where she encountered Harry and Ron who were running down the opposite corridor.

“Shit, Hermione, we thought something happened. You took the map with you, and we even went back to the dungeons, and-” Ron panted until he realized Hermione was not paying any attention to the two of them as she continued on her path towards the staircase. Ron and Harry exchanged a look before both seizing her by her hands and pulling her to them.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, and Hermione’s head tilted to the side, lost in a drift.

“Your lip is bleeding!” Ron raged. “The fuck happened?”

Ron lifted his wand and healed the small cut on her lip from Tom, and cleared the blood. Hermione offered no recognition of his care and Ron shook her arm.

“Hermione!”

Finally, she replied, “I’m tired.”

She dropped Harry and Ron’s hands as she turned towards the Grand Staircase, proceeding towards the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry and Ron exchanged another worried look, and both silently chose to follow her up the staircase, carefully trailing behind and observing her slow pace without saying a word. Eventually, they managed to arrive back to the dorm without encountering anyone else, and Ron and Harry were left helpless as they watched as she trekked off towards the girl’s dormitory, still with the Marauder’s map in her robe pocket.

Inside her dorm, she slowly took off her robes and tossed them aside. She entered her dorm’s small bathroom and washed her hands repeatedly. She still let the water loudly run as she glared at her own reflection in the oval mirror coated with vapor. Her eyes were sunken in, her hair an absolute disaster and her face utterly expressionless.

A soft knock reverberated on the door before it creaked open. Lavender Brown’s concerned face poked in. 

“Are you all right, Hermione? You’ve been in there a while and you came in very late. I did think the worst. Then you came in and you seemed all out of sorts, so I just, I just want to make sure that you’re okay,” Lavender rambled, her blue eyes earnest.

“Fine. I just need to close my eyes and drift,” Hermione droned, not even giving thought to looking at Lavender.

Lavender’s brow creased. “All right then, whatever you say.”

Lavender shut the door behind her, which Hermione found herself opening again immediately after, leaving the water running in the sink. Lavender openly watched as Hermione fell on top of her small bed, closed her eyes and drifted off to the thoughts of another insipid little night terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think! Continued thanks goes to all of those favoriting, following and reviewing! Love you all! I also wanted to let you know that I am experimenting a bit and organizing the chapters differently. Right now I am planning on having the story be separated by Parts and their chapters. Currently I have planned three parts with different amounts of chapters and this first part will conclude in the next chapter.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Montley


	5. Part 1-5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As usual, I am so sorry at being so terrible with updates.

xXx

V.

Hermione flung out of bed, dazed. Lavender and Parvati had already left the dormitory, their beds neatly tucked. Hermione felt more tired than usual and rubbed her temples, which slightly ached. She could not quite remember going to bed the night prior, but she knew that she had gone with Harry and Ron to try to find something out about the Heir of Slytherin.

Unable to recall what happened, she began to panic. Had something happened to Ron or Harry? Hurriedly, she pulled down her covers and darted out of her dorm, not caring to change out of her pajamas or put on any shoes.

When she reached the common room, she saw Harry and Ron lying on two different couches while other students were milling around excitedly, painting Hogwarts’ sigils on each other, wrapped in warm clothing and proudly adorned with Cedric Diggory buttons. That is when she remembered that the third task of the Triwizard Tournament was that day and very soon she would be going back home without anyone knowing the identity of the Heir of Slytherin.

Relieved at Harry and Ron’s presence she quickly went back to her dorm, took a quick shower and put on her shirt with a soft, muted pink blazer and pants. Afterwards, she went back to the common room with her bag for the day. Harry and Ron had changed from lying down to talking with one another on one couch in a more crowded common room.

Seeing her approaching them, Ron asked, “Bloody hell, Hermione, are you all right?”

Concerned, she asked in return, “Why? What happened last night?”

“You don’t remember?” Harry shot back.

“I don’t remember much,” Hermione admitted. “I woke up afraid something had happened to you two.”

“Shit, uh, well we lost you for a bit on the first floor and you came back all possessed, lip bleeding, barely responsive, then you just went to bed,” Ron told her, his eyebrows creased.

“We figured the worst and stayed in the common room all night just in case,” Harry continued.

“Lavender came down in the middle of the night actually looking for us. She said you were acting odd, so we asked her to keep an eye on you. She came down this morning and said you were just sleeping,” Ron continued.

Hermione bit her lip and turned away from their gaze and started to rub her sore neck while she noticed Ron inching closer to her.

“Are-are those bruises on your neck?” he sniped, grabbing her hand and moving it as she sharply turned towards his angry gaze.

“What?” Hermione pulled a mirror from her bag. She flipped it open and saw in her reflection a few red marks on the right side of her neck. Immediately she shoved the mirror back into her back, took a hold of her wand and cast a concealment charm on them.

“Hermione, what happened?” Harry demanded and Ron was silent. “Did someone…touch you? Please remember.”

“I’m trying,” she snapped and clenched her hands into fists. “I remember us going to the dungeons, then the first floor. I remember now running off with the map. Something is blocked in my memory, like someone told me to forget something and somehow I did, and I can’t explain it, but I remember…I remember-“

“What?!”

And then those familiar dark eyes flashed in her mind, how emotionless and empty they appeared when he…when he…

Yet, every other fiber of her being argued that it could not be true, he never would have done that, he could not have been the…could not be the…

“I think I did run into someone, but it must have been nothing,” Hermione excused, muttering it mostly to herself.

Ron was about to say something when Harry placed his hand on his shoulder and interrupted, “We don’t think it was nothing, Hermione. And to be honest, we don’t want you going off without us like that at night again. I think we have to talk to Dumbledore.”

Hermione angrily whipped towards Harry and sneered, “I am fine, Harry. Just fine. And we should be getting to the final task anyway. No doubt that the Heir of Slytherin will be there.”

She stood and began to storm off, knowing that for now should forget this and try to piece together herself what had actually happened last night without the assistance of her, frankly, clueless friends. She stepped outside of the Fat Lady’s portrait and walked a good bit down the corridor when Harry and Ron caught up with her.

“Hermione, hold on,” Harry called after her, and she reluctantly turned back around, her arms crossed. “Professor McGonagall actually found someone else last night on the first floor.”

Hermione blanched and unfolded her arms. Something inside her told her that she should know this, and somehow she knew who it was before Ron said it.

“Justin-Finch Fletchley, and Nearly Headless Nick, if he counts.”

“It must have happened when we were looking,” Harry added. “Apparently the prefects were called by the faculty this morning and were told to tell us. After the final task everyone is being sent home. All other exams are cancelled and if they don’t find out who’s doing this by the end of summer, they might not let us back.”

“Then let’s make the most of this last day,” Hermione declared. Harry and Ron acquiesced and the three of them silently stalked off towards the arena for the final task on the grounds.

The makeshift arena was surrounded by a group of older witches and wizards Harry quickly identified as aurors when he spotted his father among them. Harry darted off to greet his dad who looked exactly like him, messy jet black hair and all. Hermione and Ron slowly followed Harry and shook Mr. Potter’s hand. Hermione had met both of Harry’s parents a few times prior to this, and they were a couple who embodied to her what it meant to be soulmates. The two of them were truly in love, and it was a type of relationship that Hermione craved and one she could not see with Tom.

Ron caught sight of his siblings and excused himself from the conversation, and then Hermione saw Viktor. He was standing in one corner of the arena, and the other champions were with their families in the corners of the arena. Cedric’s father was gripping him tight and Fleur’s mother was kissing her on both cheeks. She watched Viktor smiling gruffly at his own companions before he caught her eye. He mouthed something she could not make out to those he was with and then jogged in her direction, grinning widely as he did.

“Hermy-own-ninny, I am glad you are here,” Viktor said.

She shook off the mispronunciation of her name. “Viktor, good luck today. I know we haven’t really talked since the last task and I’m sorry about that, I’ve been, well, quite distracted.”

He nodded. “It is fine. I only hope you will be cheering me on.”

Smiling, she remarked. “You forget I go to Hogwarts. I do hope you make a clean second at the very least.”

Viktor chuckled. “We’ll see.”

Hermione was about to respond, until she saw Tom’s figure perched in the stands. He was fixated upon her, and when their eyes made contact she frowned as a chill traveled up her spine. Concerned, Viktor took her hand in his thick one.

“Hermy-own-ninny?”

“Umm, yes?” she said, thrown out of her stupor.

“Are you fine? You look-?”

“Yes, fine,” she interrupted, and dropped Viktor’s hand, as Tom’s dark figure stood and retreated out of the arena, though he looked back towards her and smirked, before his cloak disappeared out of the arena.

“Are you-?” Viktor started to ask again, but Hermione contemplated the corridor Tom found her in last night before she found herself back in bed. It had been no coincidence running into him. Those hissing sounds he made were unnatural, unusual and alluring. An old magic that generations should have erased, and the way he closed her eyes and kissed her cheek haunted her. And it had not been the first time she found him in that same corridor. He had left that very room before, the girl’s first floor bathroom. She should have known that nothing in life can be a coincidence, and she should not have allowed him to so easily hold her and charm her back to her bed, unquestioning, leaving her friends behind.

“I have to go,” she interrupted again, shaking her head as she started to step away. “Good luck, Viktor.”

Viktor gripped her arm and pulled her back to him, and her impatience grew. She tried to pry herself away, but he bent down towards her cheek and kissed it.

“Thank you, Hermy-own-ninny,” he said, smiling.

“Right,” she muttered and stepped away with him, her eyes darting around to locate her friends. Her eyes made contact with Harry and he waved her over, his father having disappeared.

“Ron’s sitting with Ginny, Fred, and George in the stands already, we should go,” Harry told her. Without waiting for a response he headed towards the stands. Reluctantly, Hermione followed, wishing she could follow after Tom. But with everyone occupied by the last round and aurors looming everywhere, she doubted that there was much he could do. If he did anything. Or was the…no he couldn’t be. He was just…peculiar. 

Harry and Hermione joined Ron and his siblings. Soon enough, the last round commenced, with Professor Dumbledore announcing the round, which was one in which the champions would need to find the Triwizard Cup within the maze after dodging or defeating multiple obstacles.

Professor Dumbledore continued his announcement with further news. “After this round is over, and we congratulate the winning champion with one last feast, we request that everyone leave the school. Students may spend one more night here, which will guarantee them enough time to pack all of their belongings and must sign out with their heads of house at the castle gates before their departure. The train will be leaving early tomorrow morning, and the heads of houses will accompany all students to the train station. Our patients in the Hospital Wing will all be transferred to St. Mungo’s shortly as we await the cure Professor Sprout has been working on. Thank you. And with that, I shall begin the round.”

Professor Dumbledore raised his wand arm and sent a red spark into the air, and the first champion, Cedric Diggory entered the maze. then Viktor, and finally, Fleur.

Time trudged on, but neither Harry or Ron knew what to say to her, so she found herself engaged in conversation with Ron’s siblings, Fred, George and Ginny, who were all making bets on who would actually win, though they were all cheering on Cedric. Hermione and Ginny placed bets on Viktor, Fred, George and Harry bet on Cedric while Ron chose Fleur. If she lost, Hermione would have to give Fred, George and Harry three free passes next year when she would be a prefect, which George said was in the bag for her. The twins tried to get her to agree to the full school year, but Hermione indicated how ridiculous that was, knowing the twin’s antics.

“Didn’t you get detention this year though, Miss Perfect,” Fred taunted, as he attempted to get her to alter the bet to the full year.

“I don’t talk about that, and if anything, blame Hagrid, he brought us out late at night,” Hermione snapped.

“Blame Hagrid?!” George exclaimed, aghast. “Never!”

“You should blame your soulmate,” Ginny pointed out with a small waggle of her eyebrows, “He reported you.”

Hermione blanched at the jest, and even the twins began to look concerned.

“Trouble in paradise?” Fred asked with a small smile.

“Erm, he’s just rather, dark,” Hermione admitted.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look before Harry asked, “Did you see him last night?

Hermione turned towards them, and said, “I don’t know.”

“What’s going on?” Suddenly, Angelina interrupted, having just joined them on the bleachers.

Fred shot a quick, concerned look at Hermione before answering, “We’re making bets on the tournament.”

“Diggory, definitely,” Angelina proclaimed, squeezing herself between the twins’ spot on the bleachers to lean against George.

“Knew my soulmate was a smart one,” George said, and kissed her on the cheek.

Angelina scoffed, “And yet, I have, ‘you’re stupid’ branded on my arm forever because that was the first thing you said to me.”

George laughed. “Not my fault you thought Snape seemed like he’d be an easy professor. I have to live with that bat’s name on me forever.”

“Serves you right,” Angelina teased, and the two of them drifted further into their own discussion.

Ginny gripped Hermione’s hand and whispered into her ear, “Ron and Harry told me what happened. This conversation isn’t over.”

Hermione nodded. She stared out into the empty arena as conversation began to swirl around her. That look in Tom’s eyes from before made her want to step away from her friends and find him. No one normal would just leave the tournament, the last event of the school year that had the entire school in attendance. He must be doing something, something that he might have been trying to do the night prior. She pressed her hand against her cheek, remembering his touch. Last night, she had to have seen him. Her bleeding lip, the bruises on her neck, her forgetfulness, brought her no other answer than her soulmate.

A memory of Justin lying, eyes frozen open, on the cold ground flashed in her mind and she gripped the side of her head, and she began panting. She had been there. She had seen him.

Pain in her head began to flare and she squeezed her eyes shut, as the pain trickled down into her neck and her chest, until it encompassed her entire frame. She slipped out of her seat and her body fidgeted on the ground and she let out a piercing scream, deafening the voices around her. She squinted her eyes open for one second, seeing Ginny’s concerned brown ones, and her lips moving, trying to speak to her, before everything went black to the sound of _his_ voice in her head repeating some spell.

xXx

Hermione’s eyes blinked open to the whiteness and sterility of the Hospital Wing. She was lying flat on her back, and she reached out and gripped the crisp white sheets that covered her. She pulled herself up and saw Tom sitting on a chair next to her and reading a book.

She cleared her throat and licked her dry lips. “Tom?”

He glanced up from the book and smiled at her. “You’re awake.”

“Clearly,” Hermione snapped. “What’s going on?”

“You passed out,” he curtly answered, and Hermione began to remember the pain that took control over her body and the flashes of a petrified Justin Finch Fletchley.

“I was in pain,” she recalled. “Immense pain.”

Tom closed the book, placed it on her nightstand carefully underneath another book she did not recognize and took her hand in his. She quickly withdrew it, and he appeared taken aback for a brief second.

“I know,” Tom said, as if he had felt it.

Hermione ignored his response and the unfamiliar look in his eyes before asking, “What are you doing here? Where are my friends?”

“Am I not a friend?” Tom drawled.

“You don’t want to be my friend,” Hermione retorted with a shake of her head.

He smirked. “Very true.”

“So where are they?”  
“The feast.”

“And what are you doing here instead of the feast?”

“You’re my soulmate,” Tom claimed, as if it explained everything.

“There’s more to it, we both know it.”

Ignoring her, Tom requested, “Might I have your hand?”

Reluctantly, Hermione reached out her hand to him. He gripped it tight and began muttering some incantation. Some of it was familiar to her and she did not know how it could be. It sounded as though he was reciting different ancient runes, and she felt a burst of warmth in her body for a brief second. Before Hermione could retract her hand he finished, and looked up at her with awe.

“We’re connected, you and I.”

“We knew that already. Are you all right, Tom?”

“You’re the one in the Hospital Wing,” he joked. Hermione scoffed, for she never believed that he could crack a genuine smile, nonetheless make a joke.

Ignoring it, she demanded. “What did you just do?”

“Just a test, nothing is happening to you, don’t worry,” Tom assured, and reached over and took the unfamiliar book from the nightstand. “Please hold onto this, for me. Call it a favor for a soulmate that will be repaid in more ways than one. I would like you to have it.”

She took the leather bound book from his hands, opened it, and scrolled through the pages as he watched. Every page was blank, so she closed it and saw his name emblazoned across the front. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

“Is this supposed to be your diary? Did you use invisible ink or something?”

“Sure,” Tom acquiesced. “As for you, I wouldn’t write in it.”

“Then why did you give it to me?”

“Safekeeping.”

“What did you do to it?”

He shook his head “Just keep it safe.”

Then, Tom stood from his seat and began to depart. Yet, he turned back and said, “I expect Madame Pomfrey will be releasing you soon. I was speaking to her earlier, she could find nothing wrong.”  
“Oh, thank you for asking her.”

“I’m your soulmate, she just told me,” Tom told her, and Hermione frowned, and was about to ramble out some retort about how even though he was her soulmate, that it was not his right to be told her medical information when he continued “And also, during the tournament, I found the so-called Heir of Slytherin.”

Hermione regarded him, trying to ascertain if he was speaking the truth or not and hoping that he was merely jesting. 

“Who was it?” she demanded excitedly.

“Rubeus Hagrid, an acromantula of his was out of control,” Tom chided. “It was a very difficult scene to encounter, truly.”

“You’re joking again, aren’t you? Please be joking,” Hermione begged, unable to believe that Hagrid could have been the perpetrator, unable to see how that could make the slightest bit of sense with all that she had discovered and who Hagrid was.

“Hogwarts will be open next term, that’s all that matters,” was all Tom deigned to reply before leaving the Hospital Wing and leaving her gobsmacked and alone. For, all of the other beds were empty. Hermione assumed that all of the victims had already been transferred to St. Mungo’s while they waited for the cure from the Mandrake stock.

Hermione regarded the leather-bound diary in her hands and glanced up at the doorway, waiting for her soulmate to come back, though, she doubted that he would. The diary felt warm against her palms, as though it were emanating a soothing hum. It was evident to Hermione that it was full of magic. Perhaps her theory of invisible quill ink was not far off, but why Tom wanted her to have his diary he may or may not have ever written in made absolutely no sense to her. Even though she was his soulmate, she did not see why he should trust her, for she most definitely did not trust him. The Hagrid she knew would not harm any living creature, especially Muggle-Borns.

Yet, she was soon distracted by Madame Pomfrey rushing into the room. Hermione carefully placed the diary back onto her nightstand. Madame Pomfrey performed one last evaluation on her before releasing her, saying that she could not find anything wrong, but to come back if she felt any pain at all.

Hermione gathered her belongings and saw a small fluttering at the window next to her bed. It was a little beetle at the sill of the window, wearing jeweled spectacles studded with rhinestones. She smiled, “Hello Rita, I expect we’ll be in contact in the future.”

Frightened, the beetle jumped and flew away.

xXx

Hermione left clutching the diary to her chest, knowing that Rita was a problem for another time. She found her friends still eating in the Great Hall and joined them as they hit her with a barrage of questions until she reassured them that Madame Pomfrey released her with perfect health, that it must have simply been some freak incident. They were temporarily satisfied with her answers, and they informed her about the results of the tournament. Cedric had won, and Hermione learned she lost her bet. But not reprimanding the twin’s three times was hardly a sacrifice due to their track records.

“What’s that?” Ginny soon asked between mouthfuls.

“Hmm?”

“The book you’re holding like a baby,” Ginny clarified.

“Oh.” Feeling protective over the diary, Hermione quickly shoved it into her bag and rambled out an explanation. “Just my copy of _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_. I wanted to re-read it to see if I agree with their evaluation of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.”

“Gross,” Ginny deadpanned and continued eating.

“So,” Harry began, “what happened to you last night? Did what happened at the third task have something to do with it?”  
Hermione grimaced and answered through gritted teeth, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Hermione, we’re worried,” Ron said.

“If something was actually wrong with me, Madame Pomfrey would know, wouldn’t she?”

Her friends exchanged looks until Ginny spoke up, “She’d only know to check if you asked.”

Unsure of what to respond, but sick of the constant questioning from her friends, Hermione stood up. “I’m going to go pack and go to bed. I’ll see you all at the train tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”

“Wait,” Harry said. “I doubt you heard, but you should know that they arrested Hagrid, of all fucking people, Hagrid. My dad actually brought him to Azkaban. Dad said the Head Aurors didn’t even question him. And you know who found him?”

“Tom did,” Hermione interrupted. “He told me.”

“I just don’t believe it, it doesn’t make any sense!” Harry exclaimed, his fists clenched. “I mean, a Gryffindor? The Heir of Slytherin?”

“I know,” Hermione lamented.

She walked away while sparing a glance at the Slytherin table. She could not see Tom anywhere, so she left the Great Hall.

The next morning, she joined her friends in the common room and they signed out with Professor McGonagall before heading onto the train. All the while, Hermione clutched Tom’s diary to her chest, for it hummed against her and required her to figure it out.

_End Part One_

xXx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! The next part will hopefully be out sooner than I had published this one, but it will definitely answer (some) questions about what happened :)


	6. Part 2-1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As usual, I apologize for my late updates, I simply get too busy with school. But I thank every single one of you for reading, favoriting, following and especially. I am sorry that I did not reply to the reviews, but each of them means so much to me!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter (which I believe is my longest one yet for the story!)

Part Two

I.

It was a week after Hermione returned home that they received the news in the form of a crisp letter delivered by owl from Hogwarts, a letter that Hermione hid from her parents, otherwise, they might not let her return. Apparently, shortly before Hagrid was arrested, they found a girl, cold and dead in the girl’s bathroom. They concluded that she must have died while the final task was occurring. The aurors, including Harry’s father, and the faculty had chosen not to inform the student body at the feast, in the hopes that they could evacuate the school as quickly as possible without complaint, that no one would wish to gawk at the murder scene and its victim, who was quickly brought to St. Mungo’s. She was a young Ravenclaw by the name of Myrtle.  

But she had died with her first brush with the creature they believed to be Hagrid’s acromantula. Hermione still believed in Hagrid’s innocence. They merely wanted anyone to be arrested so the attacks would stop.

Tom claimed they would. He had seemed so confident, as if he had known for certain. But something had been off about him that day. And that damned diary. Hermione could not figure out a single thing about it besides for its physical appearance. As the days of summer trekked on, all Hermione could focus on was going back to school and testing all sorts of spells she’d been compiling from her readings. The thought of taking out her wand was too tempting, for the diary hummed with magic and was branded with his name and his dark spells. The diary hummed, and yet, the magic felt dark against her touch. She did not dare write in it. 

In lieu of performing magic, she’d take at least one day during the week to travel to Diagon Alley, while her parents were attending to their dental patients, to visit Flourish and Blott’s for any answers whatsoever. Any books that featured acromantulas she read through in the corners of the bookstore, a couple she bought, but none matched the pattern of the attacks that plagued their school. Regarding the diary, she did not even know where to begin. Tom had warned her not to write in it, and she would not, at least, not until she was back at school and could use her wand, as a safeguard.

Nearing the end of the summer, she chose to write to Professor Dumbledore, detailing her research on acromantulas and why she believed in Hagrid’s innocence. 

His only reply was stuck between two letters which contained information about the victims being cured and one that assigned her the position of prefect.  His response was written in a thin, neat scrawl: _Miss Granger, I am afraid the aurors have already concluded their investigation and nothing is to be done. Thank you for research, and if any other attacks occur this next term, I shall keep your input in mind._

The dismissal did not stop her. She still maintained that it had to have been a basilisk, which at the very least was far more likely than an acromantula. But her efforts thus far had proven fruitless. If the attacks were to continue, she knew who she would confront first. Her very own soulmate.

On the Hogwarts Express, she proudly wore her very new Prefect’s Badge, noticing the few missing faces while canvasing the train. Their parents had not wanted to send their children back to school. 

The prefects all met in one compartment on the train, including Ron, which admittedly, surprised Hermione that he had been chosen instead of Harry, or even Neville. Perhaps Dumbledore had been a bit too wise to Harry’s constant wanderings and schemes around the castle after curfew underneath his invisibility cloak. Ron’s face had flushed in embarassment when he told her of his appointment to the position on the train. With her own appointment as prefect, she knew that she had to regretfully fulfill her bet with Fred and George, or else they would gleefully torment her as they were most likely tormenting Ron on the sole basis that he had received the position.

Tom led the meeting for he had been chosen as Head Boy, and the quiet, pensive Head Girl from Ravenclaw sat besides him.  He scarcely looked her way at the meeting, actually looking more at Ron with his expressionless glare. She kept thinking about how his blank diary lay in the bottom of her book bag and wondered if he knew that she could never leave it alone. She had to make sure it was on her person wherever she went. Her parents over the summer had thought she was being sentimental, that it was a representation of her attachment to Tom. Rather, she was being cautious. It was a challenge, even though its magic hummed when she touched it. It felt like _his_ magic. 

Eventually Tom concluded the meeting, and the Head Girl merely nodded in the agreement. Hermione took her time leaving, Ron trailing in front of her. She lingered outside the compartment for a few moments, engaging Ron in conversation, until she heard the compartment door shut behind her. Tom had not left and had even kicked the Head Girl out of the compartment. Everyone did what Tom said anyway, Head Boy or not, he held power. Reluctantly, Hermione followed Ron on his way to find Harry and Ginny’s compartment.

“He’s a right prat, your soulmate,” Ron commented. 

“Honestly, Ron, that’s all you have to say?” Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes. 

“Not my fault he didn’t even care to say hi to you, like a normal person would,” Ron pointed out, opening the nearest compartment door, seeing Harry and Ginny. 

“He has more on his mind than formalities,” Hermione excused as she followed Ron into the compartment. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed that girl last term.” 

“Now you’re just being cruel.”   
From inside the compartment, Ginny rolled her eyes, “Ron hasn’t stopped talking about Riddle all summer, swears there’s a conspiracy going on.” 

“I believe it. I mean, Hagrid got arrested for the attacks. Of all people Hagrid, who trusts even the nastiest of creatures, would go and kill a girl in the bathroom,” Harry griped, his fists clenching. 

“I don’t understand it either. At the very least the acromantula being the monster makes no sense, but possibly Hagrid could have conjured some sort of dark magic to petrify the victims,” Hermione pointed out. 

“Fucking devil’s advocate,” Ron sneered. “Hagrid has to be innocent.”

Hermione’s eyes turned to daggers. “If that’s what you think of me. We all want Hagrid to be innocent, and I wrote Dumbledore about it this summer, but he said that the investigation is closed.” 

“Look, Hermione, Ron and I want Hagrid to be innocent, but it’s just that we always think about your behavior that night, and you couldn’t remember it. You had those-those marks. We just think Riddle isn’t good for you, soulmate or not,” Harry elaborated, trying to obscure Ron’s comment. 

Hermione had not told them about how she remembered seeing Tom, how she was suspicious of his behaviors. She could not place why she could not let the words leave the throat she wanted him to grip. She simply worried about Tom for some unknown reason she could not place. Was it some type of loyalty that came with being a soulmate? Was it the diary growing furious in the bottom of her book-bag?  

“You can’t trust a Slytherin,” Ron said slowly and calmly. “It’s a fact.” 

Resigned, Hermione replied, “So you’re saying because I’m aligned with him, you can’t trust me either, you’ve all been colluding and theorizing about Tom behind my back.”

“No, of course not,” Ginny interrupted as the boys exchanged a glance. “We’re worried. He may be Head Boy now, model student, and well-mannered, but there’s just something not quite right about him, something that’s not quite right for you.”

Hermione stood up, grabbed her book-bag, swallowed her breath to restrain herself, and brushed her pleated skirt. “I’m going to do another round, I think I heard something in the corridor.” 

“You don’t have to,” Harry began to protest, but Hermione had already closed the door behind her. 

She leaned against the compartment door for a moment and sighed away her swallowed back frustration. If this whole term was going to be Harry and Ron complaining to her about Tom, she simply would not be able to handle it, unless she proved his innocence while proving Hagrid’s at the same time, even though she did not fully believe in either, and Tom had done nothing in particular to deserve blame besides being her soulmate and a Slytherin. 

Hermione stepped away from the door and walked down the train’s corridor, hearing laughter and loud voices behind each compartment door. She found herself once again at the door to the compartment where they had the meeting with Tom. She attempted to peer through the translucent glass and saw the shadows of a few murmuring bodies. She lifted her fist to knock, but decided against it. He had company after all.  

She walked away from his compartment, simply wondering, wondering if he had done it. But it had to be impossible. The candy trolley swept by her feet, a couple of first years stumbled after it, and Hermione scolded them. Then, a compartment door right behind her swiped open and out popped Fred Weasley’s grinning face, startling her. 

“Merlin, Fred! Warn me next time!” Hermione exclaimed. 

“Gotta be careful about what compartment door you lean against, Granger, and now that you’re a prefect, you should always be prepared, could be an ickle little first year,” Fred teased and winked. He left his compartment and shut the door behind him.

“It’s as though you were ready for me to walk by and terrify me,” Hermione said, shaking her head in slight amusement. 

“More like I was waiting for any excuse to leave George and Ang who were bound to snog at any moment,” Fred admitted. 

“No Lee?” Hermione asked.  

“He went to go bother Katie,” Fred explained and leaned against the glass of his compartment door. He pressed his ear slightly against it and started laughing. “Just as I thought.”

“George and Ang?”

Fred leaned away from the door and laughed. “They can’t keep their hands off of each other. Mum finds it disgusting.”  
“I’m sure she’d think the same if it was you,” Hermione jested. 

“She’s more surprised that only three of us have found our soulmates,” Fred remarked. 

Hermione thought for a moment, “I didn’t even realize it was only three of you. Gin, George, and Bill.” 

“And Bill and Fleur just met too, at the Triwizard Tournament of all places, and he’s the oldest, and Gin’s the youngest. This whole soulmate thing is the strangest. Makes me think muggles are luckier than us not to be assigned someone, and they don’t even have magic,” Fred said. 

“I know what you mean,” Hermione said. “My mum and dad are perfectly happy. I always thought that they had to be meant to be.”

“But you still found yours,” Fred stated. 

“It doesn’t quite feel like I have,” Hermione admitted. “Had Tom and I not been assigned, I never would have considered us ‘meant to be.’” 

“Riddle never caught your fancy, eh?”

Hermione laughed. “Not quite. He’s not what I expected. He’s cold, peculiar, though extremely intelligent and well-mannered.”

“Ah, so you only pride intelligence and good manners in your soulmates then, I see, that must be why we weren’t paired,” Fred joked. 

Hermione shoved his arm, and he laughed. The two of them leant against the compartment wall. “You are intelligent and your inventions are ingenious. You just don’t like academics.”

“A compliment from _the_ Hermione Granger? I’m honored,” Fred said, pressing his hand against his chest in false amazement.”  

“Hush,” Hermione chided. “And nonetheless, you will find your soulmate.” 

“I haven’t. Dunno if I will. Apparently tragic accidents can alter things. Not even fate is secure, but your soul mark is supposed to show that somehow. Haven’t seen it myself.”

“Don’t even joke about that, Fred,” Hermione scolded. “There’s not going to be a tragic accident.” 

“You can’t guarantee that, Granger,” Fred said with a sad smile. “Or maybe I’ll just be old and decrepit by the time I meet my soulmate.” 

“Who says your soulmate has to be your true love?” Hermione reassured him, pressing her hand against his shoulder. “No wizard has ever figured out exactly what they are, they’re merely yours, romantic, platonic, or otherwise.” 

“Yeah, ‘Mione, I mean if we ever—“ Fred began, but cut himself off when the compartment door across from them swiped open, Tom Riddle’s face glaring at the two of them, flanked by the strangest assortment of Draco Malfoy, Cassius Warrington, Graham Montague, and Theodore Nott. Hermione immediately drew her hand off of Fred’s shoulder. 

“Hermione,” Tom greeted, glaring at Fred. “How are you?”  
“Fine, thanks, Tom. You?” she asked in return, his glare setting her skin on edge, his diary swinging in the bottom of her book bag. 

His face turned impassive as he replied, “Fine, and I will see you later, as Head Boy I need to make sure I’m at the feast first.”

“Of course, later, Tom,” Hermione said uncomfortably as Tom swept away, flanked by Malfoy, Nott, Montague, and Warrington, all who remained strangely silent, which was especially uncharacteristic of Malfoy.  

Fred watched as Tom and the others left the train which had just arrived at the station. Once Tom was gone, Fred rolled his eyes. 

“Right foul git,” Fred said. “Can’t believe you have to deal with that.” 

“He just gets…jealous. He really despised Viktor last year,” Hermione explained. 

“As I said, git,” Fred clarified before muttering, “Maybe he’ll run into some sort of tragic accident.”

Impulsively, Hermione laughed as Fred started banging on George and Angelina’s compartment. “Get out of there, you disgusting lot! We’re at school!”  
Hermione heard rustling within the compartment as other students began to file past her and Fred. Eventually George and Angelina opened the door to the compartment. Angelina blushed out of embarrassment, but George had the widest grin on his face. 

“Give us a pass, ‘Mione?” George asked with pouted lips and pressed together hands as Angelina began to laugh. 

“Are you really asking me to begin the terms of our bet now?” Hermione asked. 

“Shut it, George, you’re not in trouble, and I’m not even involved in this one, it doesn’t count,” Fred falsely threatened his brother with a wink towards Hermione, and she felt her stomach flutter.

“Ay, Granger, but if you back out of the terms of our bet, we will be pranking you,” George warned. 

“No backing out, or we’ll be sure to slip something in your drink that’ll make you never able to tattle on a soul,” Fred reinforced. 

Hermione laughed. “Looking forward to it.”

George and Angelina left their compartment, and the four of them left the train. Hermione spotted Harry, Ron, and Ginny near the carriages and reluctantly caught up to them, not particularly inclined to leave Fred’s warm company. She said goodbye to the twins and Angelina, promising to meet them during the sorting ceremony.

Harry took her hand as Ron and Ginny climbed into the carriage. “Are you okay, Hermione? We didn’t mean anything back there. But you know, Ron, big head, small temper.”

Hermione nodded. “You’re fine. Fred cheered me up.” 

“Good.” Harry smiled and released her hand. The two of them climbed into the carriage where Ginny and Ron had already nestled in. Ron had sat down next to a long-haired, blonde girl with wide blue eyes reading her magazine, _The Quibbler_ , upside down, and Hermione recognized her as “Loony Lovegood,” a Ravenclaw girl in Ginny’s year she had heard many strange rumors about. Every rumor lived up to their expectations. 

“How are you, Luna?” Ginny asked. 

“Fine, thank you,” she responded without looking up from the magazine. 

Hermione noticed the strangest necklace swinging on the girl’s neck, and to be amicable, she said slightly uncomfortably, “Interesting necklace.” 

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Luna chirped, and the girl’s eyes darted over each one of them until she stared at Ron over her upside-down magazine, and continued, “Keeps away the nargles.” 

Ron’s interest peaked. “Nargles?” 

Luna tilted her head as she stared at Ron. “Of course, haven’t you heard of them. They pick our soulmates.” 

The rest of them chuckled, and Ginny, who seemed to know Luna, asked, “How do you know that?”

“My dad’s done a bit of research, for his magazine, _The Quibbler,”_ Luna began, indicating the upside down magazine she was holding. “Nargles are tiny itty bitty creatures that float around and control our fates. They are only attracted to magical people. I’m Luna Lovegood, by the way.”

“Pleasure,” Hermione said through gritted teeth, annoyed at the strangeness of the girl before her with the wide blue eyes, and she went on to introduce the rest of them. 

“Have you met yours?” Harry asked. 

“Not yet,” Luna said and pulled up her sleeve revealing a soul mark written in a messy scrawl. “But they will say to me, ‘What the fuck.’”

Harry laughed. “I can’t imagine why.”

Luna grinned. “I have a few ideas myself. It completely appalled my mum though when she was still alive.”

  Ginny frowned. “I’m sorry.” 

Luna shrugged. “It’s okay. She was extraordinary, and it was horrible. I do get sad about it now and again, but I still have my dad.”  

Luna continued rambling on about the entire barrage of her father’s theories, and Hermione attempted zoning out her nonsense. Though, Ron seemed perplexed, he was utterly bewildered by Luna and the so-called “nargles” that marked people together. Hermione was silent for the rest of the ride as she leaned further into her seat on the carriage, her thoughts slipping towards ones about Tom. He had barely spoken to her. She wished to have the easy camaraderie she could enjoy with others like Fred, Harry, or even Ron. Tom was angry and cold, sometimes acting like he did not care for her in the slightest. She felt as though Tom merely wished to mold her into a toy to do his bidding, and now he was Head Boy and she a prefect, so she would have to. 

Eventually, the carriage arrived at the school, and they walked into the Great Hall with the rest of the student body dressed in their house robes. Hermione ended up sitting next to Fred, who along with George, Angelina, Lee and Katie had arrived soon after her, and Harry. The first years arrived stunned by the expansive Great Hall and the candles floating in the air, and up front, the Sorting Hat awaited them. One by one they were sorted and joined their respective houses. 

Once the sorting finished, Dumbledore began his speech with well wishes for the year, but continued on with a final announcement, “At the end of last term, Professor Quirrell decided to leave to seek out other endeavors in Albania. In the meantime, the Minister of Magic decided to fill the Defense Against the Dark Arts post with one of their own, may I introduce, Dolores Umbridge, who was the Senior Undersecretary to the minister, Cornelius Fudge.” 

Dumbledore swept his arm and indicated a woman, or more frankly, a toad, dressed head to toe in pink, including a garish, pink, fluffy cardigan, stepped down from the faculty table with a wide, oily grin on her face. She stood as Dumbledore looked away and started to make a few more announcements, including Quidditch Try-Outs which Harry and Ron were looking forward too, for Ron hoped to join the team. 

A high-pitched voice interrupted him, “ _Hem, hem.”_

Dumbledore’s eyes creased as he watched the woman stand and walk towards him, intent on making a speech of her own. Dumbledore stood aside as the rest of the faculty, especially Snape and McGonagall looked peeved at the woman’s brashness at interrupting Dumbledore. Hermione instantly disliked the woman, and the silence and looks of contempt across the Great Hall proved she was not the only one. 

“ _Hem, hem,”_ she coughed, and her girlish voice continued, emanating from an oily, wrinkled smile. “It is truly wonderful to be back at Hogwarts and see such lovely, happy faces looking back at me, those of whom will truly become my friends. The Ministry of Magic knows that the education that you receive here is of the utmost importance. We seek to examine the balance of change and tradition as I step into a position at this school, and perhaps, over the term, adjust such a position in order to benefit all of you.”

The woman continued rambling on in a humdrum tone concerning the necessity of change while maintaining a hold upon tradition. To Hermione, it was absolute barmy concealing the woman’s future efforts to allow the Ministry to take over Hogwarts. Looking at Dumbledore, who was forced to clap at the end of the toad’s speech, confirmed her theory. 

“Thank you for the illuminating speech, Professor Umbridge,” Dumbledore said after she finished and continued the announcements he had attempted to say before. After he finished, students drifted off into conversation, and certain pairs of soulmates, like George and Angelina, got up to leave. 

“See you at try-outs!” Angelina, the new captain of Gryffindor’s team, said with a wave from both her and George as they left, holding each other’s hands. 

“It certainly was illuminating,” Hermione said under her breath. 

“You’re not saying you enjoyed that?” Ron asked. “It was worse than one of Percy’s prefect speeches.” 

“Oh, it was quite unenjoyable, but it was illuminating,” Hermione remarked. “It means the Ministry is taking over Hogwarts.” 

“Why would the Ministry want to take over?” Harry asked. “Dumbledore’s never done anything wrong.” 

“If you consider the attacks last year during the Ministry sponsored tournament, it makes sense, and in regard to Dumbledore, no matter how many times he has turned down the position of Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge will always be suspicious about him and his history,” Hermione informed Harry. 

“What history?” Harry asked, eyebrows creased. 

“It’s only detailed in _Hogwarts A History!”_ Hermione exclaimed, excited to talk about the book and one of the most fascinating topics from it. 

“What? Did you parents shield you from it or something? To protect Dumby’s reputation?” Fred asked, interrupting Hermione’s excitement as he leaned into the conversation. 

“You know about Grindelwald, obviously?” Ginny asked Harry to confirm his knowledge. 

“Yeah, Dumbledore and him had a battle that Dumbledore won, and he locked him in Nurmenguard,” Harry said. 

“Some history books don’t explain everything, due to their belief that Dumbledore and Grindelwald’s true relationship should be censored, but in all honestly, I personally find it captivating,” Hermione rambled. 

Fred rolled his eyes as she rambled on and interrupted once more, desiring to get to the point, “Dumby and Grindy are soulmates.” 

Ron pat Harry’s shoulder as Harry’s mouth gaped. “Merlin.” 

“Seems like you gotta pay attention better in class, eh?” Ginny said and laughed. “Mum finds it to be one of the Wizarding World’s greatest scandals. No one thought Dumbledore would be able to incapacitate his soulmate.” 

“And yet, no one could deny Dumbledore’s power over Grindelwald,” Hermione added on. “Also, if the stories are correct, Dumbledore only visited Grindelwald in prison one time shortly after the battle and that’s it, even though they met when they were teenagers. Though, not much has been revealed about that time.”

“Can’t believe I didn’t know this,” Harry said. 

Hermione shrugged. “History books do like to hide it. But, the Ministry hasn’t forgotten, and has never fully trusted Dumbledore. After the attacks last year, which the Daily Prophet, if you did read that, Harry, said was a scheme crafted by Grindelwald’s followers due to the targeting of muggle-borns at his soulmate’s school.” 

“Blimey,” Ron said. “They can’t seriously believe Hagrid is one of Grindelwald’s followers?”

“People will believe anything that the Daily Prophet publishes, brother of mine,” Fred said. 

“Then can we write an article how that woman looks like an ugly, evil toad and get her out of here,” Ginny suggested, and they laughed. 

They continued finishing their meals, but Hermione’s eyes would occasionally drift to the faculty table, seeing the majority of the faculty glance over at the woman with distasteful looks as she dainty ate her food and sipped her tea. Then, Hermione glanced down the table to where the first years were eating and remembered that she and Ron had to escort them to the dormitories. 

“Ron, we have to bring the first years upstairs,” Hermione reminded him. 

Ron looked alarmed as his eyes shifted from his food to her face, “But I haven’t finished.”

“First years, we’ll bring you to your dorms, please gather outside the main doors,” Hermione instructed, ignoring her friend. 

“Merlin,” Ron muttered as he wiped crumbs from his face. “Yeah, come on midgets!” 

“Ron!” Hermione scolded. “You can’t call them midgets!”  
Ron shrugged. “I’m the prefect, they can handle it.” 

The first years stood from their seats and began to file out of the Great Hall and into the hallway as Hermione rushed Ron to the entrance. She saw the other house’s prefects begin to lead the first years as well. Hermione and Ron left the Great Hall, and she saw Tom standing next to the timid Head Girl in the center of the Hallway. 

Tom looked straight at her and approached her as the first years began to gather in a circle around her and Ron. “Hermione, if you would, I need to discuss a few matters with you, I’m sure Mr. Weasley can manage to find his way to the dormitory alone with the first years.” 

Ron grimaced, and his fists clenched. Hermione nodded and walked away with Tom, who took her hand, to a corner of the hallway as she listened to Ron leading the first years away, followed by prefects of other houses. 

Tom released her hand once they were standing in a corner, away from the bustle of students and said, “How was your summer?”

Hermione’s lip quivered into a small smile. “That’s what you needed to discuss?”

“No,” Tom said. “But, I assumed you care for formalities.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, my summer was fine. Yours?”

“The usual,” Tom remarked, but Hermione had no idea what ‘the usual’ entailed. She did not even know where he lived or even who his parents were. She had looked it up almost a year ago and knew that Riddle was not one of the high-class pureblood families. She truly hadn’t the faintest idea of who her soulmate was or where he came from. 

“Can you elaborate?” Hermione asked. “I mean to say, I don’t even know where you’re from, but I’m certain that you know where I am.” 

“London,” Tom clipped. 

Hermione was about to press him for more information until she heard that dreadful, “ _Hem, hem.”_

She turned and faced the toad of a woman who was addressing Tom. Tom’s eyebrow quirked, and he waited for the woman to speak. 

“ _Hem, hem,”_ Umbridge repeated. “Mr. Riddle? The Head Girl informed me you were the Head Boy, and I have just finished speaking with her.”

“Yes,” Tom confirmed and put on a smile Hermione knew was false, but he perfectly pretended was genuine. “Pleasure to meet you, Professor Umbridge, I am the Head Boy, and I am very eager for the year to begin.”

“As I am, Mr. Riddle,” Umbridge said, and her smile grew larger and focused on Hermione. “And who is this?”

“Professor, I’m Hermione Granger, a prefect for Gryffindor,” Hermione told her before Tom could introduce her for her. 

“She is my soulmate,” Tom tagged on. “We were merely catching up after being apart this entire summer.”   
“Hmm, soulmates,” Umbridge considered, studying the two of them with a pressed smile. “Lovely. But, Mr. Riddle, I do have some ideas for changes for the coming term, ones I have discussed with the Minister himself, and to talk to you about it is a great honor for you indeed.” 

“I’m sure,” Tom said, still seeming genial. 

“I will be taking on a higher position than the rest of the faculty later on, and such a position will require help from happy students just like yourself to be part of a squad to look after the rest of the student body. As you are the Head Boy I am very eager for you to join my efforts to improve Hogwarts.”

Tom’s smile faded. “What is wrong with prefects?” 

“Nothing at all,” Umbridge answered, her oily smile growing. “This squad will just have a greater amount of power than prefects.”

Tom was silent a moment as he considered what the woman was saying. Hermione had to hold back in front of the professor, in fear that she would already receive a detention for detected insubordination. 

“I don’t believe I will,” Tom answered. “Being Head Boy comes with enough responsibility, and I am unsure of your implications for the position.” 

“You know, Mr. Riddle, I was a Slytherin myself,” Umbridge said in an attempt to convince him. 

“How nice,” Tom slowly said emotionlessly, for all geniality he had provided dissipated. 

Umbridge appeared taken aback for a slight second before she tried once more to convince him, “You do understand what I am offering you, Mr. Riddle?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Now if you do excuse us, Professor, Hermione and I have a few _prefect_ duties to attend to.”

Umbridge looked stunned as Tom grabbed Hermione’s hand again and led her towards the closest hallway. After they passed the doorway, Tom let go of her hand and leaned against the wall and let out of large intake of breath. 

“It took everything within my power not to curse that woman,” Tom admitted, as the hand that had been holding hers started to fiddle with his wand for comfort. 

“She’s dreadful,” Hermione concurred. “What do you think that squad is?”

“She wants powers beyond what Dumbledore has,” Tom said. “I won’t be surprised, that if she’s still here by the end of the term, that she becomes Headmistress, even though her reputation for detesting half-breeds that would have certain parts of the school revolt, like the half-giant if he was still here.”

“Well, we can’t let that happen, I thought her personality was awful enough,” Hermione said, frowning. 

Tom smirked. “No, we can’t. She’s the only option I can presume is worse than Dumbledore.” 

Hermione jumped to Dumbledore’s defense. “Dumbledore is the best Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had.”

“He’s never liked me,” Tom admitted. 

Hermione let her defenses dissipate. “Oh.” 

“Do you have my book?” Tom asked, switching the subject. 

“So that’s what you dragged me off about?” Hermione said as she shrugged off her book-bag and began searching for his diary. She took it out and handed it to Tom, who took it immediately and began sifting through the pages, making sure that each and everyone was still blank. She was saddened to lose the company of the diary. That night she had been planing to test out the spells she had planned on the mysterious diary. All that studying and all the work she had done was now a waste. She had thought Tom may have given it to her as a challenge to prove herself against him. She wanted to win. “Why did you have me keep it?”

Tom ignored her. “Did you try anything with it that I warned you against?” 

“We’re not allowed to practice magic outside of school before we’re seventeen,” Hermione reminded him. 

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t,” Tom indicated. 

“Nonetheless, its magic hummed, almost felt kind,” Hermione informed him. 

_“Kind?”_

“Yes, kind, I hope there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Why did you leave it with me?” Hermione pressed, and he appeared unsurprised that she asked. 

“An experiment,” Tom admitted, and elaborated on the subject in a rehearsed manner. “I imbued it with a bit of my own genetic material and wanted to know if it would react kindly to a soulmate. If you were anyone else tampering with it, it would have cursed you.” 

Hermione studied him for a moment, noting that his answer was just so slightly rushed than his answers were normally, that his hand went back to fidgeting with his wand in his pocket while his other hand clutched the diary, that for a moment, his front teeth bit his bottom lip and his dark eyes, for the first time, had a new look in them, one that unsettled her. 

“Don’t experiment on me again without giving me full knowledge, Tom,” Hermione warned. “I don’t appreciate being fooled.”

Tom stepped away from the wall, put his diary into his own bag, and then held her hand. “I would never put you in harm’s way. You’re mine.” 

“If I’m yours, then you’re mine, though I can’t make any promises about not putting you in harm’s way, especially if you’re lying to me,” Hermione asserted with a small smile, and Tom laughed. 

“I would not expect anything less,” Tom said, and then, the both of them heard a long whistle at the end of the hallway. They turned towards it and saw Fred whistling at them accompanied by a laughing Lee. 

“Come on, Granger, we can’t have our perfect prefect out late,” Fred yelled at her. 

“Not even if she’s soulmates with the Head Boy,” Lee tagged on, and Tom frowned at their jests. 

“Shut it,” Hermione yelled back. She began to walk away from Tom towards her friends, but he pulled her back against him and kissed her cheek. 

“Until later, Hermione,” Tom said and released her hand. Without looking back, he turned the other way and left from where they came. Hermione backed away, and watched as he left, the diary humming in his book bag. She dashed towards where Fred and Lee were standing, only thinking about Tom. 

“Didn’t know a Slytherin could be affectionate with a Gryffindor,” Lee said, making Hermione blush, as the three began to walk towards one of their many shortcuts. 

“Still a stone cold bastard,” Fred muttered without looking back at Hermione. The three were silent for a while as they climbed a flight of stairs. 

“Do I need to write you two up for harassing a prefect?” Hermione threatened, filling the silence. 

“Remember the deal, ‘Mione?” Fred asked as he finally looked back at her with a small smile as he tapped the side of a statue that began to turn as Hermione sighed. 

“You’re bloody gits the lot of you,” Hermione snapped. 

“Language, my dear Miss Granger,” Fred indicated, and she rolled her eyes as they came face to face with the Fat Lady. 

Fred said the password, _Bezoar,_ to the portrait that swung open, and the three walked inside. Hermione’s hand unconsciously pressed itself against her cheek. 

xXx

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you all thought! This chapter was mostly informational, but there will definitely be action in future chapters!


	7. Part 2-2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize again in my delay in updating. I was incredibly busy this past semester with work and with some original works, but I will have plenty more time to write this summer (even wrote some of this at my new job (don't tell my boss!))
> 
> Anywho, enjoy!

 

II.

Mid into the first week of classes, Hermione's feet couldn't carry herself back to the Gryffindor common room fast enough. She stormed past a frightened Fat Lady to get inside, her fists balled on the handles of her bag. As the few students in the common room watched, including Fred, distracted from once again testing one of his inventions on a first year in front of the fireplace, she swung her bag on top of the couch, flopped onto the cushions, and groaned. The first year's nose trickled with blood due to Nosebleed Nougats Fred must have given him. Hermione considered that perhaps this could be the twins' first pass, though George was not present, but at that moment, Hermione did not care about reporting them at all. With Umbridge at the school, Hermione was at the point of considering letting the twins get away with anything.

"What's wrong with you, Granger?" Fred asked.

"Umbridge. Bloody Umbridge." She squished her face in between the cushions of the couch, relishing in their warmth.

"For you to curse a professor's name, I don't know what to expect." Fred laughed.

Hermione grumbled in response and heard Harry and Ron enter the common room. She had ran ahead of them, for she had had a desperate need after all to shove her face inside of the couch.

"Toad!" Ron yelled. "A stunted toad."

"Merlin? That bad?" Fred asked.

"Worse," Harry replied, shaking his head. "She even gave Hermione detention."

Hermione rolled over on the couch, the light burning her squished eyes, and saw Fred's shocked face. The first year sniffed.

"Hermione Granger? Detention?"

"Next Friday," Hermione moaned. "And I had only asked her when we'd be practicing magic."

"She didn't just ask her." Ron said grinning. "You see, she demanded, practically waving her arms and shouting, _uh, Professor, when are we going to learn some real spells_."

"She handed us back Standard Book of Spells! For reading only," Hermione seethed, sitting up on the couch.

"Umbridge exploded on her," Ron explained, as the first year took his chance to leave, but Fred waved him back. "But Hermione didn't stop."

"She wouldn't stop," Harry continued as the first year sulked back towards the fireplace, the blood staining his school robes. "Went on a whole tangent about how we need to practice, how even first years need to wave their wands, and right after I put my hand on her shoulder to get her to stop, Umbridge gave her detention for speaking out of turn and disobeying."

Fred laughed. "Damn Granger, can't say you didn't deserve it."

"Pardon you, I raised my hand!"

"Hermione's right," Harry said, moving Hermione's legs so that he could sit on the couch underneath them as Ron perched himself on the armrest. "We're not going to be doing anything but read Goshawk word for word."

"Don't forget being plagued by pink" Ron reminded. "When do you have her, Fred?"

"Bright and early tomorrow," Fred said.

"She's dreadful, absolutely dreadful," Hermione said.

"No, it will be loads of fun. George and I will most certainly get detention as well. I plan on it, I need to see Ickle Little Hermione Granger in detention in the flesh, missed my chance last year."

"Can't wait." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, can you pass me my bag?"

Ron reached down and passed her the bag. She took out a book and began reading as the three boys kept talking, and Fred asked their opinion about his latest product, as displayed by the frowning, fearful first year.

Umbridge's class had been just as Professor Dumbledore's speech had forewarned the entire student body. Illuminating. Hermione simply had not been able to hold herself back during the toad's horrid lecture, with her long, oily grin clashing with her pink, fuzzy pastels. Her class had proved what Hermione had theorized, and what Hermione had not been able to hold back which had warranted her a detention, the Ministry was tightening its control over the student body and over Dumbledore. Perhaps, Quirrell had not willingly left for Albania, and perhaps Tom was right in saying that by the end of the year, Umbridge could very well have the position of Headmistress.

Her bag suddenly felt empty, and she dug around, but remembered that Tom had taken his diary back. It felt strange being without it; though she had had no idea of its capabilities, and still hardly did, it had become a comforting, humming presence, and she was tempted to ask Tom for it back.

Unable to focus, she shoved the book back into her bag and announced, "I'm going to the library."

"You wanna do my homework too?" Ron called after her, and she shook her head as she left the common room smiling.

Soon, she arrived at the library and found a spot behind a cluster of tables. She dumped out the confines of her bag and began reading from her Transfiguration book, an assignment that was a form of relaxation away from Umbridge's class. She reviewed the Vanishing Spell, which only she, out the entire class, could perform the day prior, and went on to read in advance about the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell when she noticed someone sitting down in front of her.

She lowered her book slightly to see Tom peering over the edge.

"Vanishing spells? Easy."

"I know," Hermione said. "I was the only one in class who was able to perform it."

Tom smirked at that, which Hermione took as his singular form of praise. He pulled out his own belongings, and she took note of his Potions textbook.

"How's Potions?"

Tom glanced up. "Good."

"Do you get along with Snape? As one should with a professor?"

"I am a Slytherin, so yes."

"No one despises Gryffindor as much as he does, so we naturally despise him in return. You know, my friend George's soulmark is, _Snape seems like a good professor._ It's quite dreadful to have honestly, Snape on your skin the rest of your life."

Tom's lip quirked before he asked, "What's wrong."

Hermione frowned. "Why?"

"You've never done this much talking in the library to anyone," Tom pointed out, and Hermione felt her cheeks redden. "What do you really want to tell me?"

She grimaced. "Umbridge. She's foul."

Tom leaned in closer. "What happened?"

"She gave me detention for next Friday in her office, for me asking when we would begin to actually practice spells."

" _You_ spoke to a professor like that?"

"I don't regret it," Hermione admitted. "We're not going to be doing anything of value in that class, it's just an exhibition of the Ministry tightening their control on Hogwarts. Something must be done, she's depriving us of our education."

"We'll have to get her to leave then," Tom stated, and it seemed as if he had leaned in closer; they were a breath's length away, and Hermione felt herself swallowing air and biting her lip. Tom glanced down towards them, and her heart raced, and somehow, she felt his diary nearby, maybe in his bag, humming.

"Hi Hermione!" a light voice chirped. Startled, Hermione's head jolted towards Luna who had just joined them and was already putting her books on the table, including her copy of the Quibbler, placed upside-down, making Hermione roll her eyes. Both Hermione and Tom leaned back in their seats.

"How are you, Luna?" Hermione asked reluctantly.

"Swell," Luna chirped, and her face shifted towards Tom, her radish earrings bouncing with her movement. Under her wide-eyed gaze, Tom creased his eyebrows.

"This is Tom," Hermione said, and Luna nodded her head.

"Hermione is my soulmate," Tom tacked on, and Luna smiled in response, while Hermione could sense Tom's discomfort towards Luna.

Hermione's eyes turned back to Tom, who already returned to focusing on his work, and Luna focused on the Quibbler, jotting down notes as she read. They studied in silence, but Hermione occasionally would become distracted by Luna's constant fidgeting. She wanted the girl to leave; she and Tom had actually begun talking, something they had scarcely truly done. All she had wanted was a normal, casual conversation and to learn about him, his home life, and why they were connected. Knowing he had put his genetic material within the confines of the diary piqued her interest immensely, for she found the presence of the diary comforting. She wanted terribly to reach into his bag, pull it out, and steal it. Tom had ruined her plans for further study now that she was allowed to once more practice magic at school. Her reaction to the diary confirmed their connection past their soulmarks, and she found herself placing her hand on her mark.

Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott then cautiously approached their table, seemingly confused about Tom's chosen company, and Hermione wanted them to vanish along with Luna, she simply did not understand the girl.

"Riddle?" Draco said to get his attention.

Slowly, Tom placed his book down. "What is it?"

This drew Luna's attention, and her eyes became fixated on Theo, who wavered uncomfortably behind Malfoy.

Malfoy leaned closer, eyes looking towards Hermione nervously, but she made out the words, "Umbridge...Inquisitorial Squad."

"And what did you say to her?" Tom asked, picking up his book once more.

"No."

"Good, if that's all then I'd like if you-"

But Tom was interrupted by Luna, who eyes were still boring through Theo and gushed, "The nargles are dashing around you."

Theo blanched. "What the fuck."

Luna titled her head and studied Theo's fidgets. "The patterns of the nargles make sense now."

"I've been wondering my whole life what a nargle was," Theo admitted as he considered his soulmate grinning at him.

"Oh! I can tell you all about them," Luna informed him, packing up her belongings. "I know a lovely spot if you'd like to get to know each other."

Theo looked at Tom, who nodded his head, and shrugged, "Okay."

Luna stood up from the table and walked over to loop her arms in Theo's who let her. "You see, whatever your name is, nargles choose our soulmates, that's why they were bobbing all over you, they let me know that you were my soulmate."

Hermione stared after them, mouth slightly open in amazement over that strange interaction, but Tom remained amused as Malfoy starting stepping away.

Sparing one more glance at Hermione, Malfoy said, "I'll just leave."

Tom waved his hand, and Malfoy left, which Hermione was glad of.

She switched her focus to what Malfoy had been saying to Tom. "So, you told them about Umbridge's proposition to you."

"Yes."

"And?"

"Informed Slytherin House that they should not join."

"How did you get them all to listen to you? I can barely get Harry and Ron to do their homework."

Tom considered this for a moment, as if he were about to choose his words carefully. "They respect me as Head Boy. They want to listen."

"Why? Slytherins always have their reasons. It was like Malfoy was reporting to you."

Tom turned the page of his book. "I believe that you in fact know nothing about Slytherin."

Hermione glared. "It's not like you ever tell me anything about yourself."

Tom took a sharp breath and licked the top of his lip. "What do you want to know?"

"Where are you from? Who are your parents? You know that I'm from Hampstead and my parents are muggle dentists, I think it's only fair that I learn about you."

"I told you. London."

"Parents?"

Tom slammed his book shut, startling her. "My mother is dead. My father is worthless and did not raise me. I live in an orphanage in London, and I cannot leave until graduation or your beloved headmaster will not let me return to school. Does that satisfy you? Knowing my history?"

Hermione could not think of what to say, so she shook her head and said, "I'm sorry, Tom."

Tom pressed his hand hard against his cheek and his fingers traced hard against his eyebrow before settling back on the table. "I don't want your apologies."

Hermione decided to change her focus, but her head swirled around the thoughts of _Night Terrors_ written on his skin, thrown within an orphanage, tossed aside, and abandoned, not knowing what the words could mean, eleven years absolutely alone, hungering for knowledge.

She swallowed away the pity that Tom would despise. "I just want to know why we're soulmates."

"Our histories and where we came from before we met have nothing to do with our being soulmates," Tom said. "What we do now, with that knowledge, is what matters."

"And what is it that you want to do, Tom?"

He smirked. "Power, but perhaps first the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

At that she laughed. "Umbridge needs to leave first."

Tom's expression became stern. "I told you, Hermione. We will make that happen."

She considered what he meant for a moment. "You're being ridiculous."

"You're the Gryffindor," Tom reminded. "It's time you stop being afraid to get what you want. Come with me."

Tom collected his belongings and stood up, swinging his bag on his shoulder, and Hermione quickly followed. He waved a pass at Madame Pince who nodded in recognition, as if there was some sort of unspoken agreement between the two that he was permanently allowed in the Restricted SEction. Tom took her hand in his and led her towards the Restricted Section.

"What are we doing?" Hermione asked as Tom unlocked the door to the section, and Hermione wondered whether or not his pass was legitimate.

"You wanted to know why we were soulmates, I have been doing research myself," he informed her as he brought her deeper into the section. "The main area of the library scarcely has anything about soulmates, just theoretical information. The common term of equally like-minded individuals, genetic purposes, and true love nonsense abundant. I've only found genuine and practiced information here. Figured that you'd like to read it yourself."

He took down a book and passed it to Hermione, who clutched it, and went towards another aisle and took another book down. He pointed towards a nearby table, and Hermione placed the books down upon it and set her bag aside. Tom left the aisle and soon came back with a few more books.

"Primarily I've been working with these books," Tom said and sat down in the seat next to hers. "The essence of the lot of them is that together, soulmates produce the strongest level of magic and remain entwined throughout the duration of their lives, as though there is a string connecting them. Magic done by one soulmate affects the other."

Hermione traced her hands over the spines of the book as Tom watched: _Experimental Soul Magick, Magick of the Soul, Souls and the Dark Arts, What is the Soul?_

"You don't believe that we're equally like minded individuals?" Hermione asked, reflecting on his words as she opened the cover of the book on the top of the pile.

"That is the most plausible of the theories," Tom said, and Hermione smiled before choosing, _Magick of the Soul._ She began reading it, and Tom returned to a bookmarked page on _Souls and the Dark Arts._ Like the books he had mentioned that were in the main section of the library, ones that she had perused herself during her first year and right after she had met him, the book began with the theories of why wizards had soulmates, something that the Wizarding World had yet to prove, something that they possibly may never be able to prove. There could always be an exception. Like Ron had told her, not every pair of soulmates experience a great love, dismissing the theory concerning true love. Also, not every pair of soulmates could be bound for genetic purposes; people blind to reality proposed that theory, ignoring pairs of the same sex, like Dumbledore and Grindelwald, and infertile women. It may as well be equally like-minded individuals indeed. Of course, how Luna and Theo could possibly be equally like-minded individuals was beyond her.

The book detailed the power of soulmates' magic combined; providing the example of Protego Shields, enhanced when bound together. She wanted to try it desperately, but she was fearful that she and Tom would cause the library to collapse. Most of all, she wanted to witness his own strength. Being Head Boy alone proved his intelligence, but she wanted to see his spellwork, she wanted to feel his magic pulsing against her own. She listened to his breath, and watched his hand buried deep in his thick, black hair, watching when he'd turn the page and occasionally bite his lip. Hermione decided that she liked him best like this, focused on academics and study, contemplating the breadth of the power and precision of magic that her friends hardly ever did.

"Why is this material restricted? Soul magic is so intriguing, I can't see the harm," Hermione uttered, interrupting the silence of their study, and Tom released his lip from his bite.

"The influence of the Ministry," Tom answered immediately without looking up from his book. "They don't want to empower any threat. Nor would Dumbledore wish for any soulmate pair to be like him and Grindelwald. As such the books were locked here."

"How do you mean?" Hermione pressed.

Tom rolled his eyes. "You cannot be so naive as to believe they did not tamper with experimental soul magic to strengthen their dominance in the Wizarding Community. Until Dumbledore chose to stop fighting ' _For the Greater Good_ ' that is."

"I've read endlessly about how their duel was beyond compare, no one had ever seen magic like that practiced before, in or outside of a duel," Hermione said in awe, imagining the endless possibilities of the strength of the magic of the duel, flashing lights, and entwinement of the magic. Those who had witnessed the duel reported upon the fervor and anger of the magic, on Dumbledore's despair, and on Grindelwald's wicked cries that now haunt Nurmenguard.

"Perhaps they will again," Tom said. Hermione smirked as she turned to the section concerning the greater strength of healing magic between soulmates. The power within the confines of the books was endless, and it amazed her. But soon enough, Madame Prince patrolled the caverns of the library and sent students back to their common rooms. Emptiness creeped upon Hermione knowing that she had to leave the books behind within the library's confines, for she lacked a pass unlike Tom.

Tom seemed to recognize her disappointment as they were packing their belongings to leave, and said, "I'll leave the books here, and we can come back tomorrow for further study, I know a place where we can practice some spells, like the Protego Shields you were reading about."

"That sounds lovely," Hermione said.

"I will walk you back to your dorm," Tom told her, and he took her hand.

"There's no need."

"I want to," Tom said sternly, and Hermione chose to let him be, he was her soulmate after all.

They left the library and walked in silence, but Hermione's excitement grew at the thought that they would be practicing the extents of soul magic together. The possibilities were endless along with the strength of their power combined. Maybe Tom was right, perhaps one day their strength could rival the likes of the pure magic produced by Dumbledore and Grindelwald. They approached the Fat Lady, who seemed to still be afraid of Hermione from earlier. Tom bid her good night and stalked away, his black cloak trailing after him.

Hermione apologized to the Fat Lady and stated the password. When she entered, Harry, Ron, and Ginny were sitting by the fireplace and looked up at her expectantly.

"So, Luna found her soulmate, Theo Nott," Hermione told them as she watched inside. Then, she noticed the concerned looks in their eyes. Harry clutched a letter tightly in the palms of his hands, and it appeared as though it was going to rip into two.

"She told me, said she's already in love," Ginny said with a small smile and jerked her head towards the letter in Harry's hands.

Before Hermione could say anything, Harry said, "We got a letter from Hagrid."

He brandished the letter out in from of him and Hermione ran up and took it reading over the smudged, misspelled writing.

_Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny,_

_I know ye might be disappointed in me. Fer what you heard. I feel terreble puttin all ye in this spot, Professor Dumbledore is trying his best. But I swear to ye I did not do what they say's been done. Tom Ridle caught me with an acromantula I'd begun to raise. Said I was to blame. Cursed Aragog, who ran to the forbiden forest. Aragog, he's just a baby ye see. Can't hurt nobody._

_I swear to ye. I don't know exactly what I'm asking fer. Just help if ye can._

_Your friend,_

_Rubeus Hagrid_

Hermione handed the letter back to Harry and forlornly said, "We know this already, Tom had told me."

Harry and Ginny exchanged glances while Ron's eyes burned the floor; their rage vibrated along the walls and the floors and smacked against her heart.

"Who do you believe then, Hermione?" Ron said.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I don't want to base this on belief alone."

"Hagrid has to be innocent," Harry maintained. "He wouldn't plead to us for help otherwise."

"So if Hagrid's innocent, Tom has to be guilty, that's what you're telling me, my soulmate has to be guilty without any proof to either side of this," Hermione said.

"I believe Hagrid," Ginny said. "We don't know Riddle."

"Exactly," Hermione said. "You don't know him. I barely do. And nonetheless don't you think he would be right to get an acromantula out of the school, they're very dangerous, and Hagrid treats all creatures as if they're harmless. He wouldn't realize-"

"Hagrid would never kill anyone," Harry interrupted.

"What if it was an accident, what if it got out of his control?" Hermione asked, attempting to understand what led Tom to finding Hagrid with an acromantula. "Tom would have been just acting like a prefect."

"Say that all you want, Hermione," Ron snapped. "But that night when we went looking still haunts me, we were and still are so fucking afraid for you, and I don't think you understand that."

Hermione's throat clogged. "I'm fine."

"What if Riddle was the one who found you? I don't know any other Slytherin who could have done that, not even Malfoy," Ron said.

"Please stop it," Hermione said and held the sides of her head.

"Someone touched you, and I want to kill them," Ron said.

"Stop it!" Hermione exclaimed, and in a small whisper, "Please."

They stood together in the midst of silence as a tear roved down Hermione's face, and Ron returned to glaring at his own shoes, knowing that he needed to control his temper, but his words permeated Hermione and they kept circling around in her head over and over again, a reality she could not remember, not fully, all she could remember was the frozen face of Justin Finch-Fletchley who had been un-petrified and began to once more smile at her in the corridors. Harry folded Hagrid's letter up carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his robes.

"I want to help Hagrid," he said. "I agree, we can't just say it was Riddle, we need to find actual evidence to prove it was anyone else, or just prove it wasn't Hagrid."

Ginny nodded, and looked towards Hermione who could barely look at them, "Hey 'Mione, your research could help, that the effects on the victims couldn't have been caused by an acromantula."

Hermione shook her head. "I tried in letters to Dumbledore, but he told me not to mind it."

Ginny's lips pursed. "He probably just doesn't want students involved."

"Doesn't matter," Harry said. "If he's not doing anything, we have to."

"I don't know how we can without another victim turning up," Hermione noted, the threat of tears subsiding. "The best we can do is beg the Ministry to release him, tacking on my research."

Harry smiled. "Then we'll do that, and maybe it can be a step to helping a lot of people. The Ministry locks people up constantly without any evidence. My dad's been sent on many arrest missions on the statement of one person or another form of circumstantial evidence. You might be right, it could have been an accident on Hagrid's part, but he still doesn't deserve a life in Azkaban."

"We'll do that," Hermione agreed, and looked towards Ron whose hands were clutched together. He stood up and began walking towards the dormitories.

As he passed Hermione, he placed his hand on her should. "I just want you safe."

He left. Hermione said good night to Harry and Ginny before turning to go to bed herself. Maybe Ron was right. It could easily be Tom just as easily as any other Slytherin. But still, she wanted him and their magic entwined, and yet, something did not sit right within her. Someone was there _that_ night, and the lack of memory about them pained her. As such, she decided not to meet up with Tom that week. He could wait, for she needed to think and know that her friends' theory could not possibly be true.

xXx

At the end of the next week at exactly 5:00 pm, after suffering another dronish class with Umbridge earlier that week, Hermione stepped into her detention with Umbridge, who smiled for her amidst the sea of pink and cats that was her office. She was told to sit in front of the desk and a piece of parchment and a quill was laid out for her. Apparently Fred and George had received a Saturday detention instead of this one for 'disrupting class,' which they had done with their Puking Pastilles. Fred, expressing his deepest regrets that he would miss her detention, had told her that they would be cleaning her office head to toe the next day. Hermione did not know what to expect.

"Am I writing lines, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, my dear," Umbridge said, and paced around her desk decorated garishly. "Please write, 'I must obey.'"

"You haven't given me ink, I have some in my bag if you need me to-," Hermione said, and began reaching for it.

Umbridge stopped her. "That will not be necessary."

Hermione nodded and picked up the black quill Umbridge had left out, placed it on the piece of parchment and began to write. The back of her hand started to feel pricks, like little needles stabbing her repeatedly. She stopped writing, and saw, 'I mus-' searing itself on her hand.

"Professor?" She looked up at the woman, eyes afraid, but the woman glowered at her.

"Go on, my dear," Umbridge said, her voice light.

"How many lines?" Hermione asked, and the few letters on the parchment seemed to laugh at her as the blank ink shined.

"As long as it takes for you to understand. You are here to obey."

Hermione pressed the quill against the parchment.

_I must obey._

_I must obey._

_I must obey._

xXx

She left Umbridge's office and cleared the blood off of her hand with her wand. She choked down her tears and wiped her eyes, knowing how her friends would react seeing the scar. She knew that they would want to go to Dumbledore, but something within Hermione felt hopeless. If Dumbledore could not help Hagrid against the Ministry, how could he help his students? The Ministry was permitting this to occur, and against it, Dumbledore held no power.

Hermione pressed the small of her back on the closest wall, and looked up to see Tom leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor. "You've been avoiding me."

"I-I needed space," she mustered, angry but unsurprised by his appearance.

"Why?" he demanded quietly, and then the small wet her tears had left behind. "What happened?"

Hermione looked off to the side as Tom came up to her. She held up her hand and he took it and saw the words, _I must obey_. He kissed the top of it and clutched it against himself.

"She did this."

"I-I'll clean it up with murtlap essence," Hermione stated, as she had been writing her lines, she had been thinking about how she was going to fix it. She knew that she would be able to concoct a solution made with murtlap essence to relieve pain and scarring. The pain would leave, but the dark magic would leave its mark. Thinking in circles about the murtlap essence during the detention had somehow eased her. Yet now, something within her had stirred, knowing that this would happen to someone else, and then another, if Tom was right, if she was going to take control over Hogwarts.

"We are going to get rid of her," Tom said, and he held her face in his free hand and stroked her hair behind her ear. He bent down and kissed her forehead, but she clutched onto him, and in that moment, wanted him, and his dark eyes to bear down on her, to claim her, to erase the pain from Umbridge. She sought the retribution he promised.

She gripped his tie and pulled him down to her lips. He took a moment to respond, but his hands traveled down to grip her sides as he opened his lips and brought her closer to him. She savored his taste and his promise against her lips, she savored his protection over her and her want of protection over him. His body pressed against hers, and she felt every one of his sharp breaths through his shirt. Kissing him made their magic soar, and she felt a warmth in her stomach she had never known, as though her soul and her soulmark were singing. Her clutch on him tightened. He hoisted her against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around him. He released her lips and traced kisses down her neck, and bit against the skin above her collarbone, his teeth pulling against her skin.

"You're mine, Hermione," he reminded, words whispering between the kisses that traveled up to her ear. "No one will hurt you again."

"You're mine too," Hermione claimed. "We'll do it together."

" _Mine_ ," Tom said and kissed her lips once more, as he carefully placed her legs back on the ground, his touch soft, and she felt his vulnerability, the simple little need that he had within himself, for it matched the need she felt for him that grew empty when he stopped, but his fingers traced over the scarred words upon her skin as if he was trying to burnish them away. There was a sense of security she had never known against him, but Ron's words from the prior week reached her mind again.

But, it couldn't have been Tom. He would not hurt her.

So, she kissed him again, hands digging into the muscles of his back.

xXx

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I promise the next update will be up sooner.
> 
> Let me know what you all think!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Montley


	8. Part 2-3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is probably my fastest update yet! Anywho, thanks to all those who reviewed, favorited, and followed last chapter! It means so much!

III.

xXx

Hermione and Tom had taken to studying together in the Restricted Section of the library during their mutual free time. She had prior scored a pass from an extremely cheery Professor Flitwick. And yet, the Ministry had pronounced Umbridge the High Inquisitor. The library was not only her typical haven, but it had become one of the very few safe locations at school, far away from that sneer that began plaguing all of her classes, evaluating professors superior to her, but at the very least, thanks to Tom, he had squashed all of her attempts at creating the Inquisitorial Squad; something of which Hermione could not wrap her head around, how all of the Slytherins were so malleable to his wishes.

“The respect me,” he had assured her one day, but she knew there was something more, something closely akin to fear that she could not quite put her finger on.

As such, she focused primarily on their research into soulmate magic. Their research expanded into finding more books, even ones with only one paragraph on the topic of soulmate magic and its extensive possibilities, in between Tom shoving her against the shelves, her back melding to the spines of the books as Tom lips found hers and his hands slipped under her shirt, bruising her waist. She’d pull away each time with a stack of books in her hand, and he would follow her, hand against the small of her back. He would watch as she would meticulously mark important pages of the texts, and she would watch the pages in between his long fingers, eyes patient with each word, and quill copying down notes.

They had put together a booklet of spells they wanted to practice including the Protego Shields, Healing Spells, Disillusionment Charms, and general strengthening of stunning and transfiguration spells along with other charms. Within the books there had not been much application of stunning and disarming spells, due to the difficulties of casting them in combination, but according to the tomes, soulmate magic was especially effective with charms, shields, and healing. One of the books even suggested utilizing the hair or saliva of soulmates to strength potions; it was theorized that the usage of a pair of soulmate’s genetic material could have the effects of potions last even longer.

Altogether, she craved to feel his magic, and he had promised it to her, promised that they would practice, and under-laced within those words she knew that she would be able to feel him.

Although, he had other promises.

“She has quite the reputation at the Ministry,” Tom had said one evening in October. “They admire her ambition, but people always become shocked at her world-views. Hates muggles, like many, but also detests Half-Breeds. If Professor Hagrid were still here, I can’t imagine what she would do to him.”

xXx

“You’re wrong!” Harry yelled, his fist slamming down on his desk. “Hagrid was the kindest professor here, he would never hurt anyone. The Ministry has the wrong man!”

“Detention, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge said sweetly, her smile barely holding itself together. Slowly, Harry retreated down into his seat, feeling the loss and everyone’s eyes on him. His own eyes veered towards Hermione’s scar, that she had muted with the murtlap essence. Her friends had been less than pleased when they had seen it, almost as displeased and vengeful as Tom had been. “This Friday in my office. You must not tell lies.”

Umbridge had begun lecturing the class about the events of last year, how due to the evil actions of faculty member, Rubeus Hagrid, they needed to step in and fully eradicate his influence over the student body.

Harry fought her and defended Hagrid, ‘ _There was no evidence, Professor, Hagrid is innocent,_ ’ and her shriveled face had boiled until she eased herself down when Harry had begun yelling. Hermione could not stop rubbing the top of her hand throughout the class, and Umbridge continued her lecture, her own personal form of condemnation.

xXx

Before his detention later that week, Harry distracted them all with writing letters to the Ministry in defense of Hagrid, the ones that Hermione had promised him she would assist with. She wrote a quick report detailing the lack of evidence they had that the crimes were committed by an acromantula and another report detailing how it instead pointed to being a basilisk. Ron, though withdrawn since their last conversation, did correctly indicate how unbelievable it would be to Ministry that it could be a basilisk, but Hermione reminded him of the pipes. Though all she had was circumstantial evidence, as Harry said his Auror father would term it, it was more than what the Ministry had proving it was an acromantula. Just Tom’s word against theirs.

Hermione did have a lack of faith that the Ministry would take them at their word, but it could provoke them into lessening Hagrid’s punishment or speeding up a trial where perhaps Albus Dumbledore could prove Hagrid’s innocence, if Hagrid was correct in his letter saying that Dumbledore was on his side. But, Hermione’s brain was rattled; she wanted to bury herself into the books in the library she and Tom had been studying and ignore the world screaming around her.

But Lee Jordan had come back to the common room, rubbing his hand. Immediately, Fred and George had run up to him. Hermione could see the sheen of a tear on his eye. Fred noticed her looking and jerked his head to beckon her to come over. Curiosity bit at Harry and Ron, but they continued scribbling their letters as Hermione walked over.

“What happened?” she asked Fred as Lee was looking away ashamedly.

“Do you still have some of the murtlap essence?” Fred instead asked.

Hermione nodded. “Umbridge then?”

Lee finally looked up towards her, “I must not talk back.”

“She’s horrendous,” Hermione said.

Quickly, she went to her dorm to retrieve the murtlap essence, and when she came back, Fred, George, and Lee were on the couch with Harry and Ron. She handed the essence over to Lee and instructed him on how to use it as he told her about his defiance of one of the Educational Decrees that Umbridge had passed as High Inquisitor, that teachers were forbidden from speaking to students about anything other than academics. When he, Fred, and George were playing Exploding Snap during her class and she yelled at them, he correctly informed her that she was not allowed to discuss those matters with them. 

“How are the letters going, Potter?” Fred asked Harry.

“We’re about to send them out, don’t know if it will do any good,” Harry said.

“Might just get you a few more detentions,” George said.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t doubt Umbridge could intercept them.”

“You know, her next Educational Decree might just be ‘ _No one can communicate with a half-breed,_ ’” Hermione joked, but her friends gave her confused looks. “Tom told me she has a reputation for detesting half-breeds, you know, Hagrid’s half-giant, so of course she sees him as completely, irrevocably guilty.”

“Always with Riddle,” Ron muttered, his fists clenching, and Fred looked away from her and towards his feet.

Hermione was about to retort when Harry held up his hand. “Hold on.”

He began sifting through their letters and found his that he had already sealed. He opened it and pulled out his last page. With his wand, he erased his signature and began composing again. Hermione peered over his shoulder as he scribbled: _The evidence that my friends and I were able to easily find concerning the impossibility of the creature being an acromantula, this proves that the Ministry performed a rushed investigation, only wanting to quickly catch a suspect to absolve the Ministry of any blame. Who better to blame than an individual who is Half-Wizard and Half-Giant, a type of person that members of the Ministry, like Madam Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, are known to be openly discriminatory against. Thank you for your time, we hope that you see reason. Harry Potter._

Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry and raved, “You’re a genius.”

Harry patted her shoulder before she released him. He smiled. “I try.”

Behind them, they heard a soft, _click, snap, pop,_ and they veered their heads towards the sound at the exact same time to see a flustered Colin Creevey. Hermione realized that she had not seen him since she had snuck into the Hospital Wing to see him petrified. It was peculiar to see the younger boy able to grin.

“Oi, what’re you doing, Creevey?” Ron asked, while the rest of them laughed.

“Sorry,” Colin said and blushed, his eyes shifting uncomfortably to Harry. “You all just looked intense, good moment to capture. Piece of history. I-I-I can rip it up if you’d like.”

Harry smiled; he had always had a soft spot for Colin who could never quite fit in, not unlike herself. “That’s all right, Colin. Just ask next time.”

“Right then, Harry,” Colin agree and grinned before whisking back to the other side of the common room to join his younger brother. 

Hermione looked at her hand where the scar had already faded slightly. _I must obey._

A captured piece of history indeed.

xXx

After classes on the day of Harry’s detention with Umbridge, Hermione had planned to meet with Tom. After her own detention,her mind had raveled itself around what was going to happen to Harry. She felt awful that she did not know the same was happening to Lee, but through his smiles, Lee told her not to worry about it, but she still regretted that she had not been able to warn him. She offered to walk Harry to his detention and wait for him, but he told her that it would be best if he went alone, yet she still planned on meeting him afterwards whether he liked it or not.

In the meantime, she planned to continue her research with Tom. It had proven to be the best distraction, even though they had no gotten anywhere with plans for Umbridge’s removal as of late, and she did not have that much time before Harry’s detention would likely conclude.

When she arrived to the entrance of the library, Tom was leaning against the corridor.

As she approached him, he looked up at her.“You’re late.”

“Didn’t know we had an official start time.”

Tom propped himself off of the wall and headed towards her. “We have different plans for today.”

Hermione placed her hand on her hip. “We?”

“Come,” Tom said and brushed past her. Hermione floundered for a moment as he strode quickly down the corridor before deciding to follow, craving to throttle him. He led her down to the entrance hall, not looking behind him, but knowing, just knowing, that she was following him. He held the door open for her, which she internally grimaced at, before leading her towards the Forbidden Forest.

“Honestly, Tom, what are we doing?” she asked.

“You wanted to practice, didn’t you, Hermione?” Tom countered, finally looking behind him and smirking.

“You’re serious? You couldn’t have just asked me?” Hermione said, eyes rolling but her excitement bubbling as they approached the edge of the forest close to Hagrid’s old hut.

Tom stopped before he replied. “I like to see you…flustered.”

A blush crept on Hermione’s face, and she tried to stammer out a response, knowing how much she desired to see him fluster, to see that perfect face falter, to see anything that could reveal that parts of him that was human, to finally see him. But, they were joined by Luna clinging onto a nervous seeming Theo’s arm, and Tom’s eyebrow quirked at the sight.

Theo’s head jerked towards the girl holding his arm as if defending himself, “Luna was just showing me the thestrals again.”

Tom’s eyes shifted towards Luna who then released Theo’s arm. “You like to be with the thestrals?”

“They’re quite lovely,” Luna said. “Peaceful.”

“I’m starting to like them,” Theo tacked on.

“Thestrals?” Hermione asked, swallowing away her embarrassment at not knowing and attempting to swat away the inferiority she felt next to them all at the moment, especially Luna, who had only ever seemed to have her head wafting through the clouds, but these thestrals were apparently not one of her made up creatures.

Luna’s eyes widened, “Would you like to see them?”

“Theo’s here to help us-,“ Tom began to say.

But Hermione interrupted, “Yes.”

Luna nodded. “Follow us.”

She skipped ahead with Theo, whose hands were shoved into his pockets next to her as Hermione followed with Tom slow behind her. Luna ducked under a branch and led them into an empty meadow.

"They're over there," she indicated, pointing ahead of her at absolutely nothing but the surrounding foliage. Hermione wondered if Theo and Tom were letting Luna carry on with her nonsensical fabrications, but no notion of that washed over their faces. Tom was grimacing while Theo took Luna’s hand in his.

Luna turned back to her and Tom, “Do you see them?”

“I do,” Tom clipped, but remained still as Luna looked at him sullenly.

Frowning, Hermione said, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be looking at.”

"Thestrals pull our carriages heading to school each year, but they can only be seen by people who have seen death, that’s why you can’t see them,” Luna informed as her hand reached out to stroke the air. "Most people don't like them though, yet I believe they're beautiful.”

"Why not?” Hermione asked.

"Because they're… different," Luna replied.

"Who did you lose?” Tom asked.

"My mum," she answered. "She was extraordinary, but she loved to experiment. Then one of her spells went terribly wrong when I was nine.”

Theo wrapped his arm around her shoulder knowingly, and she leaned her head against him. “I’m sorry, Luna,” Hermione said.

“It is horrible, and I do get sad about it now and again, but I still have my dad though,” Luna rambled. “What about you, Tom Riddle?”

Hermione looked towards him, seeing the slightest twitch in his sharp jaw. She took his hand, but he jerked it away and shoved them into his pockets.

“No one of importance.”

Hermione had expected him to say anything else, perhaps about the mother he had lost when she was young, it would have been so simple to concur with Luna that they had both lost their mothers, but he did not seem to deem her of importance, the woman who died giving birth to him, her last wish being her son’s name. Yet, it easily may not even be her, furthering Hermione’s ache to unravel him.

Her hand burned with his rejection, but his eyes wore the glamour of something new that she had not seen in him before. He did not move to touch the thestrals, but he glared at them, staring Death in its face, a face that Hermione could not fathom.

“What do they look like?” Hermione asked.

“They’re horselike with wings. Feel for yourself,” Luna offered. She turned and reached out her hand for Hermione’s. Reluctantly, Hermione took it and Luna led her forward and placed her hand on top of the creature.

The skin her hand brushed across was leathery and bony. Luna brought her hand upwards, and she could feel the creatures breath against her fingertips, amazed at the touch. Hermione took her hand away

“They’re very gentle,” Luna said.

From behind them, Tom cleared his throat. “Theo, I’d like to get started.”

Theo jerked away from the thestrals. “Right, sorry, m-Tom.”

Hermione exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Luna before she rushed ahead to lead them out of the clearing and back towards Hagrid’s old hut, all the while Hermione wishing she had been able to see the thestrals; that she had seen death, its pains and toils. Like anyone else, she had seen a corpse, hands folded in a coffin, but the three of them had seen someone’s breath thin, something that Tom did not think was of importance. It explained why Luna saw the world for all of its eccentricities to conceal what she had seen, why Theo closed himself off to everyone but the girl who clung to his arm, and why Tom knew the world and its sorrows and did not dare to touch them. And it explained why Hermione knew the words of books but not the touch of matter. She contemplated that Tom might fear death and its skeletal wings, for it was the only puzzle the effortless genius could not solve, but still, she loved her little deaths against his lips.

“I had plans to practice the Protego Shields,” Tom informed her, startling her away from her thoughts, but noted that Theo and Luna were talking to each other next to Hagrid’s Hut while she and Tom stood at the edge of the forest. “That’s why I asked Theo to come, didn’t realize he’d be bring along his little soulmate.”

“Luna’s…interesting,” Hermione said. “I’ve been wanting to do the Protego shields most of all actually. I don’t have too much time though, Harry should be getting out of detention soon.”

Tom’s brow quirked. “The one with Umbridge?”

“Naturally,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

“Doesn’t he get a few each year?” Tom asked. “As Head Boy I am privy to this knowledge after all.”

“Prat,” Hermione said, and shoved his arm.

“Would you like to begin?” Tom asked. “I already told Theo I just needed him to cast stunning spells.”

“Honestly, how do you get people to listen to you?” Hermione asked in a second attempt to probe him.

“They know I have the power they seek,” Tom answered, and in that moment, it dawned on Hermione that he had Slytherin House wrapped around his long fingers; each of them knew the means to achieve power in the Wizarding World. Tom, without the strong Pureblood name, would need their influence, and they wanted to use the power and knowledge he claimed he had. 

“Then prove you have it,” Hermione challenged.

Tom smirked, turned towards Nott, and called out, “When you’re ready, Nott.”

Theo gave a sharp nod in recognition and waved for Luna to back away before brandishing his wand and shouting, “Stupefy!”

The blast of red rushed towards them, and Tom and Hermione simultaneously cast their Protego Shields, focusing on Theo’s spell. The wispy blue shields cast from both of their wands combined to form a dark, blue dome that surrounded the both of them, far beyond what Hermione had imagined. Theo’s spell collided with the dome and shot back faster than it had when he had cast it, so he had no time to draw up his own shield. It tossed him meters away from where he had been, close to the steps of Hagrid’s hut. Luna’s brush of yellow hair dashed towards him, and she began casting healing spells. Hermione gazed wondrously around her at the dome; she felt as though she could touch as if it was a net concealing the two of them. And Tom looked at her absolutely dazed, and she could feel him, feel his wonderment, his pleasure, and his magic, and she knew that he could feel hers, and their marks were _humming, humming, humming,_ for a split second, she thought she could see a glint of red in his eyes as he focused on his wand, but she shoved that thought away. At the same time, they both relinquished the dome her fingers wanted to graze.

“We did it!” Hermione cheered, and she could not stop grinning, and Tom _-Tom_ , smiled, an absolutely wide smile that she had never seen on his face before, and she could not stop looking at him, the rare dimple on his left cheek and the way that his hair was fluttering in the soft wind, and, Merlin, it was the most beautiful that she had seen him, and it didn’t matter to her that Theo was still lying in a heap across from them, now joined by Luna who was lying next to him as he recovered, he was just lying there laughing as Hermione began to do the same as she ran over to Tom and held him. Just held him tight in her uncontrollable giddiness. After a moment of shock at her embrace, his hand burrowed in her hair and pressed her against him. Her face was pressed against his chest, and she heard his heart thumping wildly.

“We’ll have to do more,” Tom said.

Hermione lifted her face away from his chest. “Loads.”

“Healing magic maybe?” Luna suggested from where she was laying with Theo, who was laughing to himself. “In case you hurt someone again.”

Hermione laughed. “Sorry Theo!”

He raised a hand as a sign of his reluctant forgiveness, and Luna rested her head on his stomach, waving her wand in the air, controlling a little silvery wisp.

“Did you two want to try?” Hermione asked, and Tom released her.

“Another time,” Luna said as her eyes followed the wisp.

And just to her, Tom whispered, “You’re remarkable.”

“I suppose you are powerful then,” Hermione said. “I felt it”

“And I felt you.”

“We could really do something with this, Tom,” Hermione went on. “We have to write what happened down. How many meters do you think Theo was shot back? Never mind, the dome is the important part, and how we felt. If we keep doing this we could write our own book on the topic, really, truly leave our mark on the world. These impossibilities that magic could never seam together can actually be reality now.”

Tom chuckled. “Again, we’ll have to do much more before anything can be published. You’re ahead of yourself.”

“I know, but, it’s incredible. And Luna’s right, we should try healing magic next,” Hermione said and glanced down at her hand. I must obey. “Maybe we could…oh, shit!”

“What’s wrong?” Tom demanded, grabbing her wrist.

Hermione slipped her wrist out of his grasp, her skin where he had touched her tingling. “Nothing’s wrong. But Harry will be getting out of detention soon in about a half hour.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Hermione creased her brow. “All right,” and then called out to Luna and Theo, “We’re heading back!”

The two of them each gave a wave from where they were still lying on the ground. As they walked back to the castle, Tom tightly gripped Hermione’s hand.Eventually, they ended up outside the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts’ classroom, to which Umbridge’s office was connected.

When they arrived Tom asked, “When is he going to get out?”

 _“Tempus,”_ Hermione cast. “In a few minutes.”

Tom then released her hand and grabbed her waist.

“Tom-what are you-?” Hermione began to say as Tom pulled her against him and backed them into the wall. He bent his head down towards her neck and kissed her, and sucked her skin. _“Oh.”_

“Occupying those few minutes,” Tom muttered as his teeth bit her neck, she groaned, and his hand reached lower and flicked the bottom of her skirt. Hermione’s stomach fluttered when his long fingers began to circle the inside of her thigh, creeping towards that spot as he continued kissing her neck and she leaned back against him.

“Someone could see us,” Hermione hissed, and Tom slowly brought his hand back to her waist.

“I don’t care,” he said through gritted teeth, and his heart thumped against her back. “I need to _feel_ you again, and as I said, I like you flustered.”

He shoved his hand down the front of her skirt, and her button almost popped off. “Tom.”

He flicked the hem of her cotton knickers, and she became embarrassed at the thought of their plainness underneath her uniform skirt, at the thought that he’d tease her that no one had touched her there before, and at the thought that somehow she’d do it wrong. And yet, over her knickers, Tom rubbed hard against her clit in ways she had only done before. She gasped and buckled against him as he bit her neck so hard she thought she felt her blood begin to trickle down her neck. Slowly, he licked it off of her, and her breath hitched.

“ _Merlin_ ,” she gasped. Hermione knew that she shouldn’t be doing this, that she shouldn’t let him, but then his finger slipped under knickers to tease her slit, and she felt his growing hardness against her ass, and she wanted him to control her. She wanted to touch him. Hermione moaned against the sting of Tom slipping his finger inside her, feeling her walls, and sliding out, before pressing it in again harder, his breath heavy and wanting against her ear.

But, the door across from them started to creak open, snapping Hermione back to reality. She snatched Tom’s hand and pulled it out of her skirt to see Harry step out as her clit ached. She stepped away from Tom to lean against the wall on his other side. She crossed her legs and let out a deep breath as she subtly cast an _‘Episkey’_ on her neck.

“How was it?” Hermione hurriedly asked, and Harry looked up at her from his hand.

“I told you you didn’t need to wait for me,” Harry snapped, his fists clenched.

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked towards him. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here now.”

Harry’s eyes shifted towards Tom, still leaning against the wall, his satisfaction heightening his smirk. “What’s he doing here?”

Hermione flushed while Tom smirked. “We were, uh, studying.”

“We were actually practicing soulmate magic,” Tom said, his finger grazing his lip as he said _mate,_ and his tongue touched the tip. Hermione felt herself growing redder as she realized that that had been the finger that had been inside her moments ago.

“We should go,” Harry said and began to storm away, but Hermione gripped his arm and pulled him back.

“What did she do to you?”

Instead of answering, Harry showed Hermione his hand. _I must not tell lies._

Tom cleared his throat. “What did she think you lied about, Potter?”

Harry’s lip quirked, and Hermione knew that he had reached his breaking point of anger. “Oh you know, about how well I’d done on my assignments, and oh yeah, about the innocent man you sent to Azkaban.”

Tom remained unperturbed. “You can’t blame me for wanting to rid the school of something as dangerous as an acromantula.”

Harry shook his head. “You’re a fucking arse.”

“Enough, Harry _,_ ” Hermione seethed as Tom began to step forward, but she placed her arm against his chest. “What’s done is done. But, we’re trying to fix it now on top of getting rid of that hag, so the two of you must get along, for my sanity.”

The three glared at one another before Harry took in a deep breath. “Fine!”

Tom appeared to relax as well, and he stuck out his hand. “Peace, Potter?”

Harry considered Tom’s hand for a moment before taking it. “You ever hurt Hermione, I’m going to drown you in the Black Lake.”

Hermione scoffed. “I can do that myself, thanks.”

“Yeah, but unlike you, I’d actually want to do it,” Harry countered.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Tom deadpanned and shoved his hands into his pocket, “Until then.”

Then Tom turned away, his cloak trailing behind him, and Hermione could feel his anger from meters away, almost as though her soulmark was tingling, wanting their magic fused together once more.

She turned back to Harry. “I’ve got the murtlap essence for you back in the common room, we should go.”

Harry nodded, and they proceeded back to the common room together as Harry, whose anger from his detention seemed to have dimmed slightly, asked. “Are you two together?”

“I think so? We’ve, erm, done stuff,” Hermione admitted. “He kisses me, I mean.”

“And?”

“He says I’m his.”

“Creep.”

“He’s my soulmate, Harry.”

“I still don’t trust or like him,” Harry said. “My threat was not just a threat.”

“I’m not asking you to, but he is my soulmate, and I enjoy his rather strange company, so I’d prefer if you don’t drown him in the Black Lake. Not yet at the very least.”

“Seriously Hermione, he reminds me of one of those Muggle serial killers my mum talks about. Charismatic and dangerous.”

“Honestly, Harry-.”

“I’m not joking, that guy could be a fucking cult leader, the Slytherins worship him like our professors do. I saw Malfoy quivering at his feet the other day.”

That gave Hermione pause. “Where?”

“Just in the corridor. Didn’t catch what they were saying, I was only waiting for Malfoy to shit himself.”

“That would have been remarkable,” Hermione laughed. “I’ve tried to figure out that Slytherin worship, but Tom doesn’t tell me much.”

“Doesn’t sound like a great relationship there,” Harry said.

“Not all of us can be you and Ginny.”

“You’re right, she’s too perfect,” Harry said smiling widely.

“How’s Ron by the way? He’s still hardly speaking with me,” Hermione asked when they reached the Fat Lady’s portrait.

Harry shrugged. “He’s worried about you is all, but he’ll come around. We both know he’s not good with emotions.”

“Never heard a truer statement,” Hermione remarked before stating the password to the Fat Lady who swung her portrait open.

In the corner of the common room she saw Lee and the twins having pictures taken by Colin who appeared the happiest Hermione had ever seen him, far from the petrified person he had been, including before actually being petrified. Fred’s eyes gleamed when he saw them and waved them over.

“What are you lot doing?” Harry asked.

“Product advertisement,” Fred grinned as he grabbed a package of Puking Pastilles to pose with. “Don’t give a shit if Umbridge implodes.”

“How’s this advertisement going to work then?” Hermione asked.

“We’re gonna use the Gemino Charm to spread them around school,” George explained. “And lil Colin here gave us the brilliant idea when he was sneaking our photos.”

Colin smiled sheepishly as he took another photo. _Click. Snap._

Fred wrapped his arm around Hermione’s shoulder and pulled her against his side. “Be in one with me, Granger.”

“No, I’m all right thanks.” Hermione took Fred’s hand and wound herself away grinning. He gave her a half smile, and Colin took another photo of Fred and Lee with the Puking Pastilles.

Hermione glanced down at the scar still burning her hand. _I must obey._ She glanced over at Lee’s muted scar. _I must not talk back._ And finally Harry’s fresh one, still tinted with blood. _I must not tell lies._

“I think I have another advertisement project for you, Colin,” Hermione said, thinking about that spectacled beetle that had been on the windowsill next to her bed in the Hospital Wing last year, flitting around for any story.

“Anything!” Colin chirped, as her friends looked at her curiously, the twins and Lee distracted from their photography project. She could not wait to tell Tom, for she knew he would be utterly pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! As always, please review and let me know what you think!
> 
> FYI, Luna's actions after Theo was knocked out by the shield (lying down next to him) was entirely inspired by that meme being tossed around, which when I want to find it I of course can't find the exact phrasing, so if anyone knows what I'm talking about and does find a version, please send it to me, oh my gosh, I'm in need.
> 
> Also, I'm super excited to write the next two chapters, they've been in the works for a long time, considering how many times I've extended this story in my drafting :)
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Montley


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